A Lady and a Knight
by Serocco
Summary: A look at Marianne Lamperouge's time as the Knight of Two, conspiring with Wizard and C.C. to curb the influence of Charles and V.V.
1. Musings from a Fossil

Chapter 3: Musings from a Fossil.**  
**

When I originally wrote it as "Zero's Requiem", I honestly didn't think it would take 13 chapters before I finished the _prologue_. I chose to delete the story and re-brand it as a separate story, basically as my interpretation of the circumstances surrounding Marianne's death.

* * *

Hovering high atop a vast array of dark orange clouds was a floating, gray-white structure situated on a flat, rectangular platform. At the middle of the platform was an assortment of circular pillars, in patterns of two to four, connected to several rectangular ceilings, positioned in a formation resembling an elongated letter "U". At the front were two columns of pillars curved forward, like the number seven, but slightly upwards. The columns were connected to circular pillars within the temple, but were protruding through the ceilings. To the left of the temple was another section of pillars connected to square-shaped ceilings, merged with another two square-shaped platforms on either side. There was a broken pillar situated next to it. To the right of the temple was a second broken pillar, destroyed to the point where the bunk was all that was left. Four pillars, connected to the same rectangular ceilings, were positioned on the sides of the second broken pillar.

In between the curved pillars was an old man, silently observing the inside of the temple. He was a towering figure, possessing long white hair styled into four enormous curls on either side. Carrying an exotic purple uniform, the old man sported an upturned collar, a purple and red cape, orange shoulder pads that hold the cape in place, and coat-tails on the sides instead of the back. The left coat-tail had an imperial insignia, resembling a cross between an eagle, a spear and a crossbow. Underneath his neck was was a white handkerchief tied into a puffy knot below his goatee. The arrows on his uniform served as buttons, supported by long yellow strings. The left shoulder pad had two yellow chains connecting it to a badge, designed with the same insignia as his coat-tail.

The old man bore a scowl on his face, sharply furrowing his brow. Suddenly, a gray, bone-like altar jettisoned from the floor, violently shaking the ground. Within the altar was an enormous, black-coated blade with rows of gray, untranslatable letters all over its figure. Unlike the rest of the sword, its hilt was curved and ovular, but made with the same steel as its blade. Its edges had a gray outline, encompassing the sides to the very tip. The altar had curved spikes surrounding the sword, almost protectively. Unfazed, the scowling old man slowly moved his long arm forward, bringing his hand through the spikes and lightly touching the cold steel of the blade. Once contact was made, an insignia had appeared, designed as curved eagle symbol, complete with slender wings. It materialized at the area between the hilt and the blade. Twelve lines began to glow around the insignia, six piercing the upper and lower halves of both wings; both the insignia and the lines were glowing white. The blade's outline turned white, illuminating the outer rim of the blade, including the tip. Above the sword was an elongated, dark grey circle, with its center appearing jet black. As the old man removed his hand, the insignia, the lines, the circle and the glows dissipated. The scowl on the old man's face turned into an annoyed sneer.

"Still can't figure it out?" A feminine voice echoed the walls of the temple.

His sneer replaced by his earlier scowl, the old man slowly turned his head to the right, shifting his right eye into see the person who spoke. A fairly youthful, black-haired woman came into view, decked out in a white military uniform with gold trimmings on her jacket and pants.

"You can help any time you wish, Marianne." The old man retorted, annoyance evident in his tone, though his expression remained unchanged.

A smile was plastered on her face, as she tilted her head forward, chin grazing her collar bone. Her eyes coyly gazed at the old man, ignoring the sharp impact of the old man's own voice echoing through the chamber.

"I'm not one for researching the unknowable, Charles." She replied coolly, the smile never leaving her expression. "You have your brother for that."

Unperturbed by her courteous, yet informal tone, Charles briefly uttered a light growl, knowing she was right. Observing the blade once more, Charles looked at the markings. He mentally cursed his brother's slow progress at translating the markings.

"This isn't something mankind should've discovered." Marianne warned, her smile falling ever so slightly.

Darting his eyes at her direction, Charles regarded her with slight suspicion. "You never objected beforehand. Why do so now?" He asked her, his brow raised curiously.

Her smile returning in full, Marianne chuckled lightly, her head tilting diagonally to the left. "I'm not objecting to anything, Charles. I want this as much as you."

"I'm only reminding you of how easily this can blow up in our faces." She made sure to clarify, as coy as her voice was.

Charles began to form a retort, before she cut him off. "Take my appearance here." Marianne lightly grazed her upturned hand over the purple shirt underneath her jacket. "You never noticed me until after I spoke." She pointed out, somewhat nonchalantly. "If others find out about the Sword of Akasha, it'll turn into a bloodbath, and not the kind either of us want." It was a warning laced with politeness and assertiveness, befitting her nature.

"Let them come." Charles assured her, welcoming the prospect of anyone finding out about the Sword of Akasha. "Conflict breeds growth, Marianne. If they find the Sword of Akasha, they'll face us before they discover its true potential." Charles boasted, smirking as his words echoed once again. Marianne, for her part, smiled as her husband displayed his trademark confidence.

"As you wish, Emperor of Britannia." Marianne bowed courtly, placing her left foot backwards. Turning her foot, so it faced the staircase, Marianne's body contorted to do the same, as she elegantly strode to a giant reverse pyramid. At the center of the pyramid was a square-like platform, where Marianne stood. The square turned green, the light enveloping Marianne and evaporating her from view.

As he witnessed his wife teleport away, a thought itched the back of Charles' mind. "Why did she bother to come here if she was only going to relay a warning?" He wondered, furrowing his brow as he attempted to read his wife's intentions. "Perhaps I should've asked before she left." He mused in his thoughts, thankful that none could hear his mind at present time. An Emperor admitting a mistake isn't one for public appearances.

"She feels that someone will find the Sword of Akasha, Charles." Another voice echoed through the chamber. This time, it was distinctly masculine, but with an airy, boyish tone. "She's concerned that a coup might occur, that someone might target us personally."

Charles' brother was standing in front of the altar to the blade. Possessing long blond hair combed to the back, Charles' brother wore a similarly imperial uniform, but his most striking feature was his incredible youth, appearing as a boy barely in his pre-teens. Despite the airy tone of voice, Charles' brother wore a blank, disinterested expression.

"Someone like Schneizel; your own son, I might add." He made sure to specify. It was no secret that the Emperor's second eldest son felt that he was better suited for the throne, and though he was far from the only one, he was certainly the most prevalent.

"If you were any other man, allowing your most vocal opponent to become the Prime Minister would've led to your death." Charles' brother mused, turning his head to the right; coolly observing the altar. He slowly motioned his eyes back to his elder brother as he finished the sentence.

"We're more than capable of suppressing a coup, Vivicar." The Emperor, a giant of a man, towered over Vivicar, whom was no shorter than 4'4.

"I prefer 'V.V' to my real name, Charles. You should know this by now." V.V. frowned in annoyance, his brow furrowing. He raised his hand, upturning it to the side, the palm facing up. His wrist tilted backward, his pointer finger and thumb were situated horizontally, facing Charles' direction. The other three fingers curved forward, almost enveloping the palm from view.

Motioning his head to the left, Charles noticed how V.V. was pointing directly at Charles' head, as if questioning his brother's memory. "You need not relegate yourself to an epithet while in the presence of your brother." Chuckling briefly, Charles let out a smirk, amused at his brother's childishness.

"If you were named 'Vivicar', you'd prefer any name as opposed to your real one." V.V. scowled irritably, annoyed at the condescending tone Charles exhibited at the last sentence, though his voice remaining dispassionate.

"Heh, you could be right." Charles relented, knowing his brother wasn't one to listen anyway. "It's a relic from the past." Charles shrugged, motioning his eyes to the sword.

"If Schneizel is willing, I'll fight his coup." Charles tilted his head up, a confident smile plastered on his face. "The winner will emerge stronger." He boasted, eagerly clenching his hand into a fist.

"Other than that, I care not for the political machinations of the world." Charles unclenched his fist, horizontally positioning his upturned palm out, with all fingers facing the Sword of Akasha. He swiftly darted his hand diagonally, thereby bringing it back to his side, as if to emphasize his indifference.

"No, these are more important." He leaned forward, his eyes making contact with his brothers'. An orange, eagle-like sigil appeared in both his eyes.

"We've spent the last 30 years researching Geass, its properties, its origins, and it is through Geass that we shall never lose!" Charles flashed a large grin, his bombastic side rearing its head.

"And it is because of Geass that we are here." V.V. smirked, amused at the theatrics of his brother. "Though I'm taking care of the lion's share of the research." V.V. couldn't help at adding an extra snark, tilting his head to the left and placing his hand on his neck.

"You're so lazy you need your brother to materialize the Sword of Akasha in your place. Afraid your finger might break when you touch the control pad?" V.V. teased, his childish side slipping through his usual stoic expression.

"You heard the Knight of Two." Charles looked up at the Sword of Akasha, studying it as he continued talking. V.V. shifted his eyes back to his brother, raising a brow curiously.

Why would Charles refer to his wife by her title? V.V. wondered in his thoughts, noticing how Charles' statement wasn't uttered out of respect.

"You're the one tinkering with the tech." Charles continued, looking back to his brother, his purple eyes meeting V.V.'s own. "You've always found results, and you're still finding results."

A light chuckle escaped V.V.'s lips, bemused at the compliment from the Emperor. "I am a genius, after all." He put two fingers on his chin and motioned his head slightly upwards, eliciting a small smile amid the mock-smugness.

"This place materialized our codes when we first discovered it." Charles suddenly recalled from a distant past, receiving a nod from V.V, who dropped the smile. A code bestows the power of Geass upon others, such as V.V. to Charles. The code, a Geass sigil, appears on the palm of a hand.

An idea hatched into Charles' head. "What if we used both our codes to activate the Sword of Akasha?" Charles raised his brow curiously, as did V.V.

Both looked over at the Sword of Akasha and shifted their eyes back to one another. The two walked over to the altar, placing their hands on the black blade. The Sword of Akasha lit up nearly all of the markings, sans those at the very tip of the blade. The black circle rotated faster, analogous to a whirlpool, the dark energy twitching violently. The sky surrounding the temple turned to nighttime, a strong breeze encompassing the temple. The brothers removed their hands from the altar.

"We should've done this ages ago." Charles said with a grin. Vivicar looked at the Geass sigil on his palm, then back at the Sword of Akasha.

"We need a third code to activate the Sword." He deduced, rubbing his thumb over his pointer and middle finger.

The Emperor grinned widely. He brought his left arm over his cape, motioning to the pyramid. "I know where we can find her."


	2. Unwanted Creature

Chapter 2: Unwanted Creature

A series of markings were emblazoned upon a large, steel door. At the middle was an elongated letter U with curved spikes at the tips of its lines, resembling the Geass sigil. Above, below and on either side of the sigil were four circles. All four circles had a second circle overlapping it, along with three crooked columns descending from the center of each circle. The columns possessed three to five additional lines, separated from their roots. The lines faced the direction of their respective circle. Two slim, curved lines with spiked tips were laced through the sigil wings. The spiked tips all had three more lines branching from their base; the extra lines also had spiked tips. One long column descended vertically, piercing through the Geass sigil on the stone floor in front of the door.

The door turned bright orange, with the sigil illuminating the brightest. A stream of energy descended from the sigil through the vertical column, illuminating a sigil located on the Geass emblem. At that moment, the emblem emanated a transparent, miniature pyramid made of pure orange energy, with the smaller sigil at the middle. A feminine, humanoid silhouette appeared into view. As the pyramid evaporated, the door stopped glowing orange and returned to a dull gray.

Motioning her head upward, Marianne placed her right hand over the hilt of her sword. It was straight steel, accentuated by a leather bound grip and a gold dusted guard. Positioning her left thumb onto the middle square area of her pointer, she brought her hand over to her chin. Extending her fingers just wide enough to envelop her chin, Marianne silently motioned her eyes over to the door, observing the markings.

"A portal activated by ones' thoughts." She mused quietly, her eye bristling with curiosity.

"If anyone walks into it, a single, simple thought will activate the portal." She observed, as if to piece the puzzles together for herself to understand.

"Clovis called it a... Thought Elevator." She recalled, jolting her pointer outward as she remembered, then bringing it back to her chin.

"If your thought happened to be a memory, you're thrown into a state of consciousness where you relive that memory." Her hand removed from her chin, Marianne lightly rubbed her thumb over the edge of her index finger, allowing her mind to process the spoken words.

"A simple thought of wanting to escape will enable your escape, but only if you take your mind off whatever memory you're reliving at the moment." Her fingers enclosed her palm, her hand back at her side as she finished that sentence.

"Don't you already know this?" A masculine voice bellowed, snapping Marianne from her monologue.

Closing her eyes, she positioned her head downward, her brow furrowed. Removing her arm, she turned her torso to the left, gazing upon the corridor of the chamber. She scowled darkly, as she bore witness to the man emerging from the dark corridor.

"Just making sense of our boss' work." Her scowl was replaced with her trademark smile. She brought her head downward, narrowing her eyes at the man.

A silhouette obscured much of his features, but Marianne could make out broad details. He wore an upturned red collar with a triangular tip hovering over the back of his head. His face was covered by a gray mask that only revealed his nose, parts of his cheeks and his eyes.

"And what _boss_ would that be?" He asked bitterly, though rhetorically, scoffing as he mouthed off the third word spoken.

"Someone that you appear to hate." Marianne cocked her brow quizzically, ignoring the sarcasm of his question.

"I figured you'd have known that by now." He furrowed his brow in confusion, stopping directly in front of the platform.

"You don't often leave your office, Mulcair." She hedged closer to the man in mention, her boots clanking on the rough pavement.

"You barely ever say what's on your mind." Marianne stood adjacent to Murdoch, crossing her wrists behind her back and leaning her torso towards him.

Mulcair snorted loudly, his eyes inching over his shoulder. "Saiduhr annoys me," Mulcair admitted, his gaze looking at the Geass sigil in the wall behind Marianne.

"His _existence_ is hard to explain." Mulcair shook his head disapprovingly, placing his hands above his hips. "Every time I try, I can't crack that enigma." He gnashed his teeth together, frustration dominating his voice tone.

"And I prefer to keep it that way," a voice bellowed throughout the corridor.

Despite the suddenness of the statement, neither Marianne nor Mulcair were surprised. He did little to react physically, other than to close his eyes and roll his pupils behind his eyelids. She beamed her gaze over Mulcair's shoulder, her brow curled darkly as a figure emerged from the darkness. As Saiduhr came into view, the light gradually revealed his appearance. He wore a black tricorn hat, a gray uniform with six buttons on the right, a white jacket covering his shoulders and a V-shaped light red mask. The jacket, the hat and the tails at the sides of his mask were emblazoned in golden eye symbols similar to the Geass sigil, while the tricorn had a drop-down visor.

"You can't even give us a clue?" Marianne asked scathingly, her expression nonetheless carrying an amiable, gracious appearance.

Saiduhr tilted his head, his tricorn and hat-tails refusing to budge from their stiff positions. "I did not make the Thought Elevators." He clasped his palms together and leaned his hands forward, pointing to the object in question.

"I never needed to." Step after step, he slowly paced along the floor, his mask keeping the target of his gaze ambiguous.

"... your ideas, others' work." Marianne deduced, motioning her hand towards the man to emphasize her point. She rubbed her right thumb on the edges of the hilt, her fingers tightly ensnaring the sheath.

"_How?_" Murdoch shadowed Saiduhr, flanking the masked man while barely containing his annoyance.

"How can humans create something like that?" Mulcair asked incredulously, glaring at Saiduhr accusingly.

"That's not a clue." Saiduhr raised a finger, wagging it mockingly. Mulcair huffed irritably.

"I won't waste further time." Her eyes closed, her head tilted right and her brow furrowed, Marianne lightly swung her palm to the left, stopping it just next to her cheek.

"What are you here for?" She queried in annoyance, her usual courtly demeanor dropping.

"I hear your thoughts."

Mulcair and Marianne's eye lids jolted in surprise, though briefly, the rest of her expression remaining unchanged. He walked closer, more details from his mask coming into view. A curved line connected the right-edged V with the eye-circle, with three lines styling the spaces in between, the largest of which connected to the black back-end.

"This place..." He drifted from his words, lifting his head to face the ceiling.

"I'm its power source." His close proximity to the door lit the symbols up, illuminating his mask amid the array of technicolor. The aforementioned central line was a V-shaped mouth, appearing like a ghastly grin.

"It comes from me." He outstretched his left arm, the chamber walls rumbling simultaneously, as if a wave was threatening to erupt from the stone casings.

"It _breathes_ of me." The chamber walls shook statically, evaporating from view, replaced with the image of the same white temple Marianne spoke to Charles earlier. The man turned to face Marianne, a jet black glow illuminating his armor.

"It is _of_ me." The Sword of Akasha appeared behind the man, with the black circle rotating ferociously, the sky morphing into a sea of dark gray clouds, cracking and twisting as they motion along. The tip of the blade emanated a charged, electrical surge of energy from its tip, shooting through the circle. Marianne, sweat drops snailing down her cheeks, blinked her eyes. The images inexplicably rescinded. The chamber returned to view. The man remained at her side, staring at the ceiling.

"I hear Charles." He continued, snapping Marianne from her daze.

"I hear Vivicar." He tilted his head to his left, the eye-circle making contact with Marianne's eyes and the grin adjacent to her mouth.

"I hear you." His smooth baritone bellowed along Mulcair's ear, taunting him with a chuckle. Murdoch inched his hand to his sword and flicked the hilt forward, revealing a small speck of the cold steel.

"Stand down, Costnett." Marianne held her hand on his elbow, which belonged to the arm that he clutched his sword. Still fuming, Mulcair's thumb pushed the hilt back onto the sheath, not noticing the sweat still dripping from her flesh.

"I have no reason to stop Ragnarök, Saiduhr." Marianne declared assertively, the sweat fully removed from her delicate features.

"I just don't think Charles or his brother know the full extent of its power." Spoken blankly, her glare boring into his mask.

"As far as you've told them, that is." She finished, almost spitting the sixth word at him.

A light chuckle exuded from Saiduhr's featureless mask. "Whatever you say, Marianne." He lifted his right palm out, tilting the wrist horizontally, before bringing it back to his side. She noticed a sigil on his palm, prompting Marianne to narrow her eyes in suspicion.

"You're the man who granted those codes to Charles and his brother?" Marianne queried, growing more irritated at the sight of his grin. Another chuckle emanated from Saiduhr, his head edging downward, before lifting itself to meet Marianne's gaze.

"You weren't told?" He asked, the chuckle dominating his tone as he uttered that sentence. Marianne furrowed her brow in annoyance, her chin lightly grazing her collar bone.

"What kept you from granting one to either of us?" She asked, her fingers clenching the hilt while using her other hand to motion to Mulcair.

"I cannot deliver more than three codes at a time." Saiduhr answered blankly, shrugging his shoulders. Her expression remaining blank, Marianne emanated a light hum in acknowledgement, her fingers unclenched from the hilt.

"Don't delay yourself." Outstretching his left arm adjacent to his abdominal area, Saiduhr positioned his hand horizontally, the palm facing up as the tips of his fingers pointed to the door.

Flipping her eyes to the right, Marianne noticed the gray chamber lighting up, if only slightly, revealing a clear pathway to the door. Turning her eyes back onto Saiduhr, Marianne bowed courteously, her left arm folding over her stomach in mock respect.

Motioning her right foot backwards, she turned it around, the foot now facing the doorway ahead. The rest of her body followed suit, her boots clanking loudly as she walked through the exit. Mulcair would not release his gaze from Saiduhr, but nevertheless mustered the will to turn around and enter the thought Elevator, intending to talk business with Charles and Vivicar.

For his part, Saiduhr stood still, silently observing Marianne. Once she left the chamber, a choked, dark laugh erupted from his voice box, his chest heaving from every jolt born from his voice box.

A half-hearted warning escaped the depths of Saiduhr's throat. "Be wary of the length your life, Marianne."


	3. Knowledge Ensnared

Chapter 3: Knowledge Enshrouded

A white shuttle with blue-colored windows roamed through the sky. Its wings were trimmed yellow, with the tips of the shuttle and engines colored red. A rectangular beam was at the center of the shuttle phalanx, carrying a coat of arms at the sides. The insignia sported a blue background, a red cross, four green leaves at the tip, two white columns with red trims and an emblem with a purple crown at the top. On the emblem was a bronze lion to the left and a green snake to the right.

Within the shuttle, Marianne sat on a white chair, her left leg over the right. Her left forearm lay on the chair's support beam, the wrist hunching upwards and hanging her hand at the edge. Her right elbow was on the other support beam, the forearm leaning forwards. She stared at a touch screen in her hand, blankly observing the image of a young, lime-green haired woman with piercing yellow eyes.

"Why do we call her C.C?" A fat, bald man queried, looking over Marianne's shoulder to observe the girl. He wore an orange-tinted monocle connected by a slim string to his ear.

"It's what she calls herself, Count Asprius," answered Major Loughner, Bartley's adjutant. He stood directly adjacent to Marianne. He wore a gray shirt with an upturned collar and two pockets at either sides, with a black zipper lined at the middle.

"She sometimes operates as Cecalica Corabelle, but I doubt it's her real name." Loughner shrugged, upturning his hands before bringing them back to his sides. Marianne flipped the screen with her thumb, silently observing several images of C.C. In one, a sigil was found on the back of C.C.'s right hand.

"I tracked those images from cameras that spotted her." He motioned his index finger at the touch screen.

"How many others know of her?" The mustached Bartley pressed, his brow seeming perpetually furrowed.

"I've sent these same images to Prince Clovis and the Prime Minister." Loughner answered blankly, his brown eyes locking with that of the bald man.

"I formed a research team with my colleagues in the Rosenberg Institute, to further our findings on C.C." Loughner brought out a notepad with pictures, names and bios of various scientists, handing it over to the bald man.

"We call ourselves Code R, after the Rosenberg Institute." On cue, the count placed his index finger at the top of the notepad, calling attention to the 'Code R' term titling the list.

"We'll conduct research on any other beings with codes." Placing his finger to the edges, Bartley flipped the pages to his right, stopping once he reached the image of an effeminate, dark blond man.

"Prince Clovis elected to oversee our operations, and he has chosen you as his liaison." Loughner explained as Bartley's finger hovered directly over Clovis' picture. Emanating a small smile, he held his palm out at his superior, the tips of his fingers adjacent to Bartley's monocle.

The count's expression was unchanged. He slithered his finger towards Loughner's own image below that of Clovis. "I've been placed in charge of everything else, my lord." In spite of the formality, the Corporals tone verged on boastful, accentuated by a sly smirk.

A sharp exhale escaped the nostrils of the heavy-set count, whose scowl dropped as he looked over to the corporal. "Straight to the point, as always, Colonel Loughner." The respectful emphasis was accompanied by a smirk on the part of Bartley.

"It's how I like it, Count Asprius." Smiling at the news of his promotion, Loughner bowed politely, his forearm covering his torso and his hand grazing his shoulder.

"Just Bartley, please. We needn't be so rigid, Michael." Bartley waved his hand out, physically dismissing the formalities to emphasize his point. Before Loughner could respond, Marianne stood up from her chair and handed the touch screen over to him.

"I am grateful for your work, gentlemen." Marianne bowed slightly, the smile back on her features. Both men bowed lower in response, as a show of respect. The shuttle cabin slightly rumbled slightly beneath them as it landed, prompting the two men to quickly straighten, their eyes jolted open.

Undeterred by the sudden arrival, Marianne kept her own eyes closed. When a door opened at the back of the cabin, the men glanced at her with poorly concealed apprehension, as if fearful that they may have slighted the empress with their startled slip in deco

"You may leave now." Her eyes still shut, she motioned her palm at the door with a cool smile. Both men nodded in compliance, making for the exit while Marianne remained.

Grabbing her right wrist with her left hand, Marianne quietly watching the two men leave her sight. A third man, adorned in a white and black magician outfit, walked onto the room from the pilots' seat. He bore a red and yellow reptilian mask, the snout protruding from the area between the dark blue eye sockets and curving downward.

"You're very crafty with your intel, Wizard." Marianne spoke wistfully, the smile illuminated by the light from outside the shuttle. She stood perfectly still, her gaze never leaving the direction of the opened hatch. "You're the only reason Loughner even had access to those images of C.C." Marianne turned her eyes to the right, her polite smile dominating her expression.

"It's my job." Wizard spoke plainly, motioning his right index finger to a winged, V-shaped insignia on his chest. It was black on the right and white on the left, stretching across his torso and ending just below his shoulders.

"That means you know Charles wants C.C. as well." Marianne turned her body around, facing the masked Wizard directly. "And that Clovis loves anything related to Geass." Marianne slowly walked closer to Wizard, now only arms' length away from the Knight of Two.

"No surprise will come from me if my husband sent Clovis to look over Loughner's shoulder." Her eyes narrowing slightly, she turned her head to the left, facing the outside of the door.

As she turned back to face Wizard, he leaned his head forward, the snout of his mask shrouding his mouth from view and obscuring whatever expressions he might've exuded. Slightly swirling her head to the right, Marianne raised her left brow curiously, the corner of her lips stretching into a coy smirk.

"And you don't like that?" She coyly tilted her head to the left, her eyes attempting to bypass the snout covering his mouth. Marianne slowly walked closer to Wizard, now only arms' length away from the Knight of Two.

"I am to dirty my hands in the name of the Imperial Family." Wizard spoke plainly, his jawline somehow remaining concealed by the snout of his mask.

"It's half the point of my organization." He reminded her, his tone dispassionate and his body language non-existent.

"I'd say it's the entire point." Marianne retorted incisively, the fingers of her left hand clasping her hip. "You dig up intel and spread it out at your whim." She extended her left fingers to the right, her palm facing the same direction, before bringing her hand back to the side.

"The Imperial Family is simply one of your more visible clients." She tilted her head to the left, her eyes looking respectively, seemingly appearing disinterested, before sharply darting them back to his mask.

"Except, now, you don't want Britannia to find C.C." Marianne jolted her brow upward at the fourth word for emphasis, her smile appearing more condescending than gentle.

"I can answer why." Her head returned to the middle, once again adjacent to that of his mask.

"You have immunity because of how much you know. You're not ready to vomit out any sensitive details just yet." She slowly swayed her left hip, her respective hand resting over it. Her smile was replaced with a smirk.

"I thank you for it." Marianne bowed her head politely, her smirk reformed into a smile. Wizard jolted his head up at her statement, surprise overriding his cover. He appeared to be frowning, but Marianne felt that his reaction was enough of an expression. She motioned her hand upwards, the palm facing Wizard, almost in a calming way.

"I'll make sure not to let anyone else know of C.C." She offered, placing her hand horizontally, the palm facing up, and extending her hand towards Wizard.

"You're the Knight of Two." He reminded Marianne, ignoring her hand as he walked passed her; stopping just next to the woman. "You're rank-less militarily, yet your authority gives way to widespread influence across Britannia." He cautioned, looking outside the window to gaze at Marianne's Knightmare Frame, the Ganymede, surrounded by royal guards.

"I'd argue that it's close to a cult of personality." He turned his head towards Marianne, whose smile stuck to her features in spite of his sharp critique of her.

"Is it illegal if the government arms a criminal?" Marianne queried frivolously, her thumb lightly rubbing the swirls of her index and middle fingers. Tilting her head diagonally to the left, Marianne fixed her eyes sharply on the knowledge broker, analyzing his body language. In response, Wizard twitched his head to the right, somewhat in alarm and partly in confusion. If his eyebrows were visible, one would have raised in amusement.

"Even with all that intel, you have nothing to confront anyone directly." She mused wistfully, resting her thumb on the tip of the distal phalanx of her middle finger. Her index finger jolted towards Wizard, but its phalanges retained a prominent, if lethargic curve.

"Your only means of defense is knowledge." Her voice carried a smooth, calming tone, accompanied by a polite, if condescending smile. Wizard turned to face Marianne, who tilted her head to meet his gaze. She morphed her smile into another coy smirk, her brow raised in a mixture of curiosity and confidence.

"You're an asset, not a power." She delicately caressed the snout, before switching over to rub the temples over his eye sockets. "You can't even breathe down my neck. Not with the Britannians stalking you at the corner." Her eyes still focused on his mask, Marianne turned her head to the right and flung her chin up, calling attention to the royal guards looking over the Ganymede.

Amid the brief pause, Marianne inched her eyes to the top left, appearing deep in thought. "Unless," she snapped her fingers suddenly, leaning her index finger to the right. "You snatch Pluton from their grip." She repositioned her index finger to the left, the tip of her long nail facing Wizard. She tilted her head to the left, her eyelids narrowing cockily. She scratched the cheek of the mask, her long nail piercing the fragile plastic.

"Few know of its existence, after all." Her palm rested on his left cheek, slowly sliding it across the snout as she twisted her body to her right and walked to the side.

Her eyes still glaring at his snout, she strode along the carpet gracefully, heading in the direction of the Ganymede at the window.

"I can hand it over to you." Marianne brought her palm out and held it horizontally, the palm facing upwards.

"And none will be the wiser." From the pinky to the index, she wrapped her fingers over her palm, leaving only the thumb out in the wind.

"If you tell me where to find C.C." She added, her index finger stretching upward and her body fully turned over, adjacent to the knowledge broker.

As Wizard walked over, his gloved right hand stretched forward, the tips of his dark blue fingers pointing to the end of the room.

"She's behind you."


	4. Friend of a Foe

Chapter 4: Friend of a Foe

Leaning her back on the wall, C.C. curved her left leg underneath, her foot bracing itself on the wall. Her arms were crossed at her chest, the forearms pressed just below her ample bosom. Her head was turned to the right, her piercing, yet disinterested yellow eyes silently observing the Ganymede outside the window.

Once Wizard revealed C.C.'s presence in the shuttle, the smiling Marianne slowly lowered her head, her chin lightly grazing her chest. She twisted her body to the right, her purple eyes inching toward C.C. The yellow-eyed girl wore a short purple skirt, knee-length black boots and a seamless purple tube top. Her lime-green hair was tucked into a dark green fedora.

"Did you hide her in a suitcase?" Marianne asked sarcastically, a level of playfulness nonetheless present in her words. Tilting her head to the left, her purple eyes inched towards Wizard; her sideways glance laced with suspicion at the knowledge broker.

"The fedora isn't for show, princess." C.C. spoke out plainly, though assertively, her eyes now glancing at the Knight of Two.

Raising her brow in curiosity, Marianne switched her line of sight over at C.C., who returned the glare with a blank expression.

"Barely anyone knows about me." C.C. shrugged her shoulders, closing her yellow eyes as she leaned her head to the left.

"I figured to keep it that way by shoveling my hair into the hat." She unwrapped her left arm from her chest, bringing her left index finger towards her head. The tip of her finger was adjacent to her fedora.

"I found her in a pizza joint." Wizard stretched his left, white gloved hand out. The palm was placed vertically, with the fingers perfectly still.

"She made me treat her for a meal." His hand returned to its side, his tone of voice lacking any form of annoyance at all.

"As any self-respecting gentleman should." C.C. interjected suddenly, edging her head to the left with her eyes following suit. A slight narrowing of her brow, coupled with her smirk, elicited a distinctly coy look in her expression.

"Since you like hearing your voice, tell her yourself." Wizard motioned his head to the left, positioning the tip of his snout towards C.C. He leaned his head to the left, jolting his snout towards Marianne for emphasis.

A smirk creeped along the corners of C.C.'s lips, who coyly narrowed her eyes at Wizard. "There's not much to tell." C.C. shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, tilting her head to the left and lifting her chin upwards.

"We only met a few hours back." C.C. removed her hands from her chest and retracted her leg back to the ground, shifting her eyes over to Marianne.

"And no, I haven't hopped in bed with him." C.C. snarked rather playfully, her tone deadpanned and her expression blank. Amused at C.C.'s sudden frankness, Marianne raised her brow curiously, her purple eyes instinctively checking out C.C.'s choice of attire.

"I'm not the type to spread my legs for a guy I barely know." C.C. tilted her head to the right, the corner of her lips twisted into a smirk. A look of annoyance highlighted Marianne's purple eyes, tightening her grip on the hilt briefly.

"He had a plushie of Cheese-kun, so I followed him over to this shuttle." Closing her eyes shut, C.C. locked her fingers together and pressed her metacarpals together.

"I was already in the cockpit by the time he noticed me." She upturned her wrists toward her face, extending her arms horizontally, as her elbows levitated slightly wider than shoulder length. Pushing her hands forward, her elbows narrowed the gap between one another as her arms straightened in length. A light moan escaped from C.C.'s mouth, the curves of her back arching forward.

"And now, I'm a fugitive of Britannia." Stopping just in front of Marianne, C.C. scowled darkly, furrowing her brow at the Knight of Two. Marianne returned the glare with another coy smile, leaning her head downward to meet C.C.'s gaze. As their eyes locked with one another, the 6'1 Marianne towered over C.C., herself at a solid 5'11.

"Not a bad way to spend your life, wouldn't you say?" Marianne asked rhetorically, tilting her head to the left and upturning her hand horizontally, curving her other four fingers over her palm. The tips of her nails were adjacent to C.C.'s cleavage.

"Not too different from how I normally spend life." C.C. shrugged her shoulders dismissively, leaning her head to the left; her hands upturning diagonally, before returning back to the sides.

"Which reminds me..." Marianne moved her left leg backwards, shifting her torso to Wizard, her eyes darting towards Wizard. "Why would Wizard ever be caught dead in a pizza restaurant?" Marianne queried with suspicion, her brow raised curiously.

"Unless..." Marianne pressed her left thumb flat on the back of her chin, with the intermediate phalanx of her index finger resting on the front of her chin.

"It wasn't "Wizard" that met our favorite green-head here." The intermediate phalanx still on her chin, Marianne levitated the distal phalanx, the tip of her index finger facing C.C.

"Which means she knows who I am, so I can't get her off my back." Wizard conceded, effectively admitting that he met C.C. without his mask on.

"I know what he looks like. Not who he is." C.C. clarified coolly, leaning her head to the left and shifting her gaze from Marianne to Wizard upon finishing her sentence.

"As if that's any better." Wizard quipped irritably, maintaining a deadpanned tone in spite of himself. Turning his head towards C.C., Wizard waved his right hand out, the palm facing the left; physically dismissing C.C.'s remark.

"Cause I have someone to rat you out to, clearly." C.C. quipped sarcastically, stretching her arms out and lifting her shoulders up. Upon retracting her arms to the side, C.C. leaned her chin downward at the last word, the corner of her lips twisting into a sly smirk.

"You're a fugitive from Britannia." Wizard reminded her brusquely, ignoring her snarkiness. "If they catch you," Wizard snapped his fingers, his thumb facing upwards and his index finger pointing at C.C. "They'll track me down eventually." He pulled his hand back, retracting his index finger and jolting his thumb towards his chin.

"They?" C.C. raised her brow curiously, moving her eyes toward Marianne. "You're not arresting me?" C.C. asked suspiciously, tilting her head almost quizzically to the left. Swaying her hip to the side, C.C. placed her hand on the hip, her thigh-length skirt fluttering slightly.

"I don't need to." Marianne shrugged her shoulders, outstretching her hands and shifting her head towards the left; her chin positioned diagonally. Marianne clasped her hands together, positioning her palms diagonally.

"I have other plans for you." Marianne answered C.C. before the latter could get a question off. Shifting her hands adjacent to her torso, Marianne jolted her right index finger upwards. Rotating her hands forward and twisting her wrists correspondingly, Marianne darted her index finger forwards; pointing towards C.C.

"I can keep Charles and his brother off both your backs." Marianne smiled confidently, earning a raised brow from C.C. and a cautious nod from Wizard.

"Hmm. Go on." C.C. furrowed her brow sharply, crossing her arms underneath her cleavage again, leaning her chin down and tilting her head diagonally; an impassive frown on her lips.

"Not here." Marianne warned, raising her index finger up, the rest of her fingers clenched over her palm. "Not safe." She twisted her index finger towards the window, the tip of her nail pointing at the royal guards outside.

"Heh, I'll bite." Smirking wryly, C.C. tilted her head to the left, unwrapping her arms from her chest. C.C. slowly walked towards a chair, placing her hand on it before raising her legs over the seat and swiftly lowering herself onto it; her skirt flipping and swirling about. Crossing her legs and leaning backwards, C.C. rested her hand on her cheek. She looked over to Wizard, who nodded in response.

"We're in."


	5. What Hast Thou Wrought

Chapter 5: What Hast Thou Wrought

A loud, electrical noise erupted from the engines of the Britannian shuttle, the vehicle itself slowly inched towards the opened hangar door. Its wheels rotating forward, the shuttle quickly picked up speed, levitating into the air as it launched through the hangar.

With her left hand ensnaring the hilt, Marianne rested her right hand on her hip, her purple eyes following the shuttle until it left her sight. She leaned her head downward, furrowing her brow and edging her eyes upward; deep in thought.

Slowly sliding her left foot back, Marianne twisted her leg around, with the rest of her body following suit. Strolling along the carpeted floor, Marianne shifted her eyes around the hangar; coolly observing the columns of Glasgow-class Knightmare Frames scattered throughout. A royal guard named Francis Eardley was accompanying her dutifully, adorned in a gray uniform with a diagonal red sash and a short black cape.

A squadron of VTOL air transports carried pockets of Glasgows through the hangar door, flanking the shuttle Marianne watched earlier. She stopped suddenly, leaning her head downwards and raising her brow curiously; her lips curving into a smirk.

"He sneaked some of you in?" Marianne asked placidly, turning her head to the right and lining the guard within her sight.

"What made you think that?" Eardley queried alarmingly, dropping all pretenses of formality and professionalism.

"You know what I was talking about, for one." Marianne held her right hand out, upturning the palm horizontally and shifting her torso to the jolted her index finger upwards at the final two words uttered, as the other fingers encircled her palm without touching it.

"Second," she jolted her middle finger up, adjacent to her index finger. "I'm out of the shuttle." Marianne waved her hand backwards, positioning it diagonally, as the tips of her index finger faced her torso.

"None of the guards care about nameless pilots that carry me around in a plane." Marianne flipped her hand, the palm facing downwards, and waved it to the side; twisting her body around to face him. She ensnared her palm with her fingers, sans her thumb, which she jolted towards herself.

Eardley leaned his head downward, the chin lightly touching his collar bone, as his eyes narrowed sharply at Marianne. He darted his eyes from side to side, as if looking out for whomsoever could listen in on her monologue.

"Seven Glasgows?" She continued, tilting her head diagonally to the left.

"Following a generic shuttle?" She darted her index finger towards the hangar door, switching her eyes from the guard, to the hangar and back to Eardley.

"Someone under his umbrella is in charge of this hangar." Marianne waved her index finger to the right, jolting it upon the uttering last word.

"Including," she lined her index finger up, her thumb pressing against the middle phalanx of her middle finger. "The one who owns this hangar." She leaned her hand backwards, the tip of her nail facing an enormous window on the higher end of the wall.

"Your boss is not doing a good job at covering his tracks." She pulled her index finger back, levitating her hand towards her cheek as she turned her head to the right; looking at the hangar door.

"Unless he thinks his job security warrants such recklessness." She flipped her hand around, the palm facing upwards and the fingers all stretched out. She flipped her hand around and inched it forward, cupping his shoulder tightly.

His eyes followed her hand, looking back at her once she touched his shoulder. She smiled gently, her eyes locked with his. Furrowing his brow irritably, Eardley closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose; exhaling through the mouth. His shoulders lowered themselves slowly, the pressure releasing from his arms; conceding her point without a word spoken.

"Why are you following me?" Marianne asked assertively, the smile still on her face. Her eyes exuded a sharp, even dark flare, as she stared him down. Eardley darted his eyes to the side, observing her sword and avoiding her glare, though his expression remained.

"Maybe..." Marianne jolted her index finger upward, her hand lightly relieving his shoulder from the grip. "Wizard's unleashing a bodyguard, or he's sending a messenger." She raised her thumb and her middle finger to accompany her index finger, her hand positioned diagonally.

"It's both." Eardley finally spoke up, his eyes now closed; a tinge of annoyance evident in his voice. Edging his head to the left, he gradually opened his eyes and locked with her own; a scowl plastered on his face.

"He wants Murdoch off his back." The guard elevated his arm and pressed his wrist on her forearm, sliding her hand to the side and off his shoulder.

"He already has plenty _on_ his back." Marianne waved her hand out, the palm facing up and her fingers curling back.

"And he's still here." She jolted her thumb towards the door, flipped her hand diagonally and thrust her index finger to the ground; the thumb still held out.

"He won't be for long. Not while Murdoch's still around." Eardley walked towards Marianne, contorting his body sideways in order to get past her. He faced forward, his eyes darting from side to side, as if watching for any eavesdroppers.

"Murdoch's one man." Marianne turned her head around, joining the guard in observing the interior for eavesdroppers. "Someone can replace him." Marianne darted her eyes towards Eardley, her head still facing the other direction.

"Look over both your shoulders 'till then." Eardley turned around and edged towards Marianne, digging into his pocket as he kept his eyes on the lookout. He reached for her hand, pressing his palm onto hers and retracting his own hand to the side. Feeling something solid gripping her flesh, Marianne curved her hand to the side, spotting a gray medallion on her palm. Eardley walked forward, passing by Marianne without looking back or uttering another word. For her part, Marianne returned the favor, preferring to stare at the medallion.

It carried a jet black Geass sigil, with spheres at each of the three tips. She slipped the medallion in her pocket, keeping her hand within the slot as she walked out of the hangar and through the apartments. After entering her room, Marianne locked the door, closed the drapes and checked for bugging devices, before reaching for the medallion. Furrowing her brow sharply, she narrowed her eyes at the spheres on the sigil, leaning her face closer towards the medallion. Suddenly, the spheres began to glow dark red, the brights of the light illuminating her left eye.

A sting scratched the surface of her pupil; Marianne closed her eyes shut and threw her head away, cringing in pain. She grasped the medallion tightly, the force aggravating the bones in her hand, as her teeth smashed together. Contorting her body around, she forced herself towards the mirror on the desk, the pain slowly subsiding. Inhaling sharply, Marianne loosened her grip on the medallion and relieving the pressure from her teeth. Exhaling slowly, Marianne opened her right eye, observing her lack of external changes. Her chest felt heavy, in spite of her steadied breathing, as a feeling of exhaustion creeped along her torso. She slowly opened her left eye, jolting in surprise at the sight. Marianne blinked rapidly, bringing her hand near her face; a small gap separating her lips. Her fingers twitched, lightly grazing the skin around her eye.

"I have a Geass?"


	6. Trickster Witch

Chapter 6: Trickster Witch

Wizard rested his forearm at the top of a window, leaning his torso forward as his snout grazed the stainless glass. His wrist curved upward, the fingers leisurely hanging out, the tips of his nails facing the opened door to the cockpit. Snapping his fingers suddenly suddenly, signaling for the pilot to take off.

With the shuttle gliding upon the air, Wizard quietly observed the scenery beyond the confines of the shuttle. His eyes fell upon an armored, circular fortress, equipped with automated defense turrets.

Two hangar doors could be found at the edges of the fortress, with air transports coming and going sporadically. Gothic windows were plastered all over the outer shell of the fortress. Spherical bunkers were glued to the roof, protecting by several spikes, converging into shield walls resembling serrated rows of teeth. A tower was located at the center, its tip morphing into a trio of spires.

"Caerleon is hideous." C.C. spoke out suddenly, stretching her legs as she stood from her chair.

"On that, we agree." Wizard concurred sincerely, inching his torso backwards and removing his forearm from the wall.

From the corner of the window, he spotted a squadron of VTOL transports following the shuttle. They appeared to be arriving from Caerleon.

"Guess I shouldn't have called it ugly." C.C. mused with a smirk as she approached the window, her arms crossed behind her back and her head tilted to the left.

The Glasgows converged over and round the shuttle, surrounding it while keeping themselves several meters away. Chuckling slightly, Wizard turned his head to the left and contorting his torso around, walking to the middle of the room. He took out a communicator from his pocket and held it up to his mouth, his thumb pressed firmly on a button at the top.

"Light it up." He commanded assertively, his voice echoing through the speakers of the communicator. C.C. raised her brow and curved the corner of her lips, resting her hand on her hip and contorting it to the side.

"Understood," replied a masculine voice from the communicator. Still locked in their VTOL transports, the Glasgows' masks opened up, revealing a black ball with an orange outline and a small circle at the middle. Thermo-graphic images were being relayed to the pilots, as they scanned the shuttle and their fellow wingmen.

"No hitchhikers, weapons, cameras or bombs detected," declared the same masculine voice from earlier.

"Remain in formation until our arrival." Wizard levitated his thumb from the button and retracting the communicator back into his pocket.

"Factsphere Sensors." Wizard stretched his hand out at the nearest Glasgow to the window. C.C. raised her brow and curved the corner of her lips, resting her hand on her hip and contorting it to the side.

"Caerleon is uploading them onto all new Knightmare Frames." Wizard lowered his fingers, its tips facing the aforementioned fortress.

"Figured to test some out." He brought his arm back to the side, turning his head to the Glasgow at the window.

"You stole 'em." C.C. smirked coyly, pointing to the Glasgow.

"Magicians do not steal." Wizard rolled his wrist around nonchalantly, as if physically dismissing her point.

"They create." He jolted his index finger upwards, his thumb pressing at the middle phalanx, as the ring and pinky fingers grazed the palm.

C.C. rolled her eyes in annoyance, crossing her arms underneath her cleavage. "Where are you taking me?" She queried more seriously, ignoring his sudden flamboyance.

"I'm going back home." He held his arm diagonally, the fingers curved over the palm, the tips pointing at himself. "You'll run off to the hills if I tell you to stay put, so I won't bother." He pushed his wrist towards the left, his index finger jolting forward, pointing at her.

C.C. curved her lips and raised her brow, amusement prominent in her expression. "I'll hang around you for a while." She shrugged leisurely, tilting her head to the right, her ear lob grazing the top of her shoulder.

"I'll count how long that takes." He waved his hand out, turning his head to the window.

A snowy canyon came into view, with a stainless steel bunker door at the top of a mountainous cliff. The shuttle and the VTOLs slowed themselves down, as the bunker door slowly opened up, allowing the vehicles to land within an underground hangar base. Wizard disembarked from the shuttle, passing by the surrounding Glasgows and approaching a man standing before the door.

Dash, the man, wore a dark blue cloak adorned in sets of golden armor on his arms, legs and waist, with a large Geass sigil at his sternum.

"Something I cooked up." Dash informed Wizard calmly, lackadaisically cracking his sore neck bones.

"They're supposed to generate a Geass artificially, but I've found less success with it than I thought." Dash stretched his torso forward, clenching his fists to offset the straining in his skeleton.

"They only work once. Side effects vary from person to person. No deaths cataloged." Dash unwittingly bellowed a yawn, the air from his breathe contacting Wizards mouth.

"You tested it on yourself?" Wizard scowled deeply as he scattered the air between himself and his tired associate.

"Nobody else would." Dash raised his right arm out, his hand clenching into a diagonal fist. He cupped his elbow with his left hand and stretched his arm out, bones cracking as his knuckles grazed the snout on Wizards mask.

"Can you stop?" Wizard queried scornfully, slowly leaning his head back to separate himself from Dash.

"I'm tired, man." Dash complained dispassionately, twisting his wrists and jolting his shoulder upward; the bones clicking audibly.

"You don't have to put on a show over it. I feel like you're trying to steal my mask." Wizard turned his head to the side, protecting his face while keeping his eyes centered on Dash.

"I prefer your hat, really. I wanna know how it's glued to your head." Dash rubbed the top of his head, his droopy eyes glaring at the black hat placed diagonally on Wizards head.

"Wait your turn." Wizard waved his hand out, clenching the medallion in his palm.

His wrist connected with Dash's forearm and pushed it down, provoking an annoyed groan from Dash. At that moment, Dash's eyes made contact with the medallion, causing the spheres to light up. Wizard brought the medallion up, between himself and Dash, as the spheres produced a holographic circle emanating over the medallion. It produced an image of Dash using his Wired Geass, but Wizard couldn't make out what was happening.

"Huh, I still don't know what it does for you." Wizard chuckled lightly, upturning his hand and removing his fingers from the medallion, allowing it to drop on Dash's palm.

"And I'm still not gonna tell." Dash teased, pushing the medallion into his pocket and cocking his head diagonally.

"I'm sure Marianne won't either, if she has one now." Dash closed his eyes as a yawn slide through his teeth, pushing his shoulders up and straining his arms at the motion.

"You're outta your mind if you think someone won't find out." Wizard scoffed at the brazenness of his associate, shaking his head with disapproval.

"It helps her as much as it helps us." Dash shrugged lazily, closing his eyes even after realigning his shoulders. Dash pressed his palm on the side of his neck, his fingers striking the bone underneath.

"It's on your head if this blows up." Wizard warned darkly, his fingers twitching erratically and violently. As soon as he turned around, Wizard noticed all too late that C.C. had yet to utter a single word. The reason?

"She took my fuckin' ship."


	7. Where It Belongs

Chapter 7: Where It Belongs

Marianne stood in front of a large, iron door, carrying a plaque titled "Henrietta mar Britannia." Cocking her head to the left and tilting it to the right, Marianne leaned onto the door, flipping her hand it so the palm faces her direction. Colliding her index finger with her middle finger, Marianne slammed her knuckles on the iron frame, her ear inching towards the door. She detected a muffled, feminine voice behind the door, leaning her head backwards as the door opened.

A young woman in her late teens peeked through the door, her icy blue eyes accentuating her messy, chin-length dark purple hair. Her attire included a white-clad, flower-trimmed brasserie over her ample bosom, as well as white, snowflake-decorated gloves and white lace-trimmed stockings. A set of string-tied panties, the top half decorated by flowers, carried a single see-through frill over the top. It barely covered six inches. Garter straps connect the elastic from the panties to the tips of her stockings.

"Lady Marianne!" Henrietta exclaimed delightfully, her eyes widening in surprise and her lips curving into a smile.

Henrietta placed her hand diagonally on the door, stepping away as she pushed it backwards; the light from the outside illuminating her smooth, pale skin. Standing next to the door, Henrietta bowed politely, her left arm wrapping around her bare midriff and her left arm facing the inside of the room.

"Nice to see you, too, Henrietta." Marianne smiled warmly, patting Henrietta on the shoulder as she walked into the room. Adjacent to the door was a king-sized bed, with drapes covering the sides. A dark-skinned woman, one with spikey red hair, sat cross-legged on the bed; simpering as she locked eyes with Marianne.

"Alastrine?" Marianne raised her brow curiously, shifting her eyes from Alastrine to Henrietta, before peering through the drapes. Alastrine was accompanied by a shirtless, muscular young man, his chest slowly heaving with every breath taken through his mouth.

"Another one?" Marianne curved her lips into a coy smirk, resting her hand on her hip, as Alastrine stood up from the bed.

"My favorite one." Alastrine grinned cockily, wrapping her arm around Marianne and pulling their heads closer; their cheeks lightly grazing one another and their breasts smashing together.

"Heh, what's his name?" Chuckling lightly, Marianne jolted her chin at his direction, her eyes analyzing his chiseled physique.

"Cedric Lahirr. Wanna have a go?" Alastrine simpered suggestively, as she held out her right hand; pointing her fingers at him.

"Once he wakes up, sure." Marianne shrugged with a smile and a chuckle, rubbing the top of Henrietta's messy purple hair.

"I can wake 'im up now." Alastrine offered playfully, flashing a coy smile.

"He needs the rest after what you worked him through." Marianne inched her left shoulder downward, unhooking it from Alastrine's arm and slithering out of her grip.

"Your call." Alastrine stretched her arms out, shrugging dismissively as she leaned her head to the side.

"I'm sure you're lookin' out for some fresh legs when you can." Alastrine crossed her arms in front of her well-endowed cleavage, swaying her hip to the side and curling her lips into a smirk.

"Not if you keep runnin' your mouth over it." Marianne jabbed sarcastically at the redhead, curling the corners of her mouth into a smirk.

As she shifted her gaze towards Alastrine, the lit areas of the room illuminated Alastrine's figure, revealing her attire. The redhead sported a black and red corset, black fishnets, a black garter belt and purple-striped black panties. Raising her brow curiously, Marianne looked over to Cedric.

"You're far kinder to him than your outfit suggests." Marianne mused astutely, noticing that his physique bore no scratch marks. His irises sported a light purple glow, indicating that someone used Geass on him.

"We're not like Zevon." Henrietta laid her right leg diagonally on the bed, leaning her back onto the sheets and using her forearms as support.

"We make a point of it every time she's around." Henrietta heaved her chest forward and flexed her knee upward. Henrietta tilted her head towards Cedric, keeping her eyes on Marianne.

"Nobody's like Zevon," Marianne shrugged, "but nobody's like me either." She curved her fingers backwards, the tips facing her chest.

"I'm not thrilled over how much Charles spends in that temple." Marianne flashed a scowl, furrowing her brow irritably.

"It's killed his looks for sure." Alastrine chimed in suddenly, a coy smile dominating her expression. She was met with a nod of agreement from Marianne and a chuckle by Henrietta.

"It's good that you mentioned Zevon." Marianne raised her index finger upwards, turning her head towards the bed.

"That mark belongs to Pluton." Marianne jolted her index finger at Cedric, calling attention to the purple irises. She received looks of confusion from Alastrine and Henrietta.

"Knightmare Frame pilots who follow orders straight from the Imperial Family." Marianne explained stoically, closing her eyes as she leaned her head forward.

"No shit?" Alastrine tilted her head to the right, raising her brow curiously. "I thought he was just a call boy." Alastrine rested her palm on her neck, rubbing it gingerly, as she shifted her gaze towards Cedric.

"He still is, hence how Zevon picked him up." Marianne reassured the two women, resting her hand on Henrietta's shoulder and offering her a smile.

"Figures." Henrietta frowned in annoyance, shaking her head disapprovingly. She pushed herself up, switching to her palms for support instead of her forearms.

"Why haven't we heard of this before?" Henrietta furrowed her brow irritably and tilted her head backwards; her eyes set upon Marianne.

"Zevon picks who gets to know." Marianne waved her hand out, closing her eyes as she leaned her head to the right.

Marianne scowled deeply, glaring darkly at the raven tattoo. "Who else is tired of Zevon clenching her fist at everything?" She asked rhetorically, earning a nod from Henrietta and a raised hand from Alastrine.

"Add me to that, if you don't mind." Cedric spoke out suddenly, prompting Alastrine and Henrietta to shift their gaze towards him in surprise.

"You're up early." Marianne chuckled lightly, quirking a brow in amusement.

"I can handle quite a lot." Cedric exuded an air of cockiness with those words, winking flirtatiously at Marianne.

"Just... not from Pluton anymore." Cedric placed a hand on his neck, the pressure from his fingers cracking the loose bones.

"Since when?" Marianne asked with a chuckle, a coy smile creeping along the corners of her face.

"Since now." Cedric turned himself around to face the women, raising himself up from the sheets and eliciting a yawn.

"Not because of anything I've done, mind you." Cedric rolled his shoulders forward, bones cracking however slight the motion.

"And it's just that. I've yet to do anything. I feel like an ornament." Cedric tilted his head to the right, as he rolled his shoulders back.

"I hate work, but she makes crave it." Cedric pressed his palm on his shoulder, straining its bones as he pushed it downwards.

"Whenever I point that out, she flips her shit right at me." Cedric cringed deeply, as a chill ran down his spine. He rubbed his neck gingerly, contorting his face in mock pain.

"Are the other members in the same boat?" Marianne asked, her lips contorting into a small, triumphant smile.

"Not all, no, but she's hardly benevolent, either way." Cedric shook his head to the side, closing his eyes as the tattoo began stinging slightly.

Marianne narrowed her eyes at the tattoo, noticing small black particles emanating from the markings. "Do you think anyone else will wanna leave Pluton?" Marianne placed her thumb and her index finger on her chin, jolting her pinky to Cedric for emphasis.

"We're not allowed to talk to each other, so I can't say." Cedric shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head to the right, shaking his head once more.

"Thanks anyway." Marianne smiled, lowering her head and bowing respectfully. She earned looks of surprise from Alastrine, who raised her brow curiously; Henrietta, who widened her eyes as she turned to Cedric; and Cedric himself, who felt his cheeks flush at the sight of the Empress acknowledging him.

Before she turned to leave, Marianne jolted her brow upwards and shifted her eyes at Alastrine. Grinning mischievously, Alastrine gave a knowing look to Henrietta. The purple headed princess placed her hands on Cedric's shoulders, threw her leg over his waist and smiled pleasantly.

"You should've stayed asleep." Henrietta warned playfully, inching her face closer to hers. Cedric widened his eyes in alarm, instinctively separating his lips. As he edged his lips closer to hers, she leaned her head back teasingly. Henrietta slammed her forehead onto his own, forcing him back. He held his hand on his head, rubbing his temples to dampen the throbbing pain.

"Bring another guy first." Henrietta smiled sweetly, removing herself from his waist and bowing politely.

"You _evil_ woman!" Cedric yelled out incredulously, smiling in spite of himself.

In the meantime, Marianne had already left the room, closing the door behind her. As she walked along the hallway, Francis Eardley flanked her, giving the appearance of a palace guard protecting a noble. Marianne leaned her head down, her eyes darting from side to side as she thought to herself.

_Only I saw those particles_, Marianne quickly deduced in her thoughts. She wondered if this was due to coming in contact with C.C. or if it stemmed from after-effects via the medallion.

"Does Zevon have a Geass?" Marianne quietly muttered to herself, her eyes looking out for any eavesdroppers.

"I would imagine so." Eardley answered blankly, looking over his shoulder to spot any cameras or bystanders. "You're serious about Pluton?" Eardley queried, turning his eyes to Marianne and raising his brow curiously.

"I'm true to my word." Marianne answered plainly, furrowing her brow irritably as she brought up a touch screen. Upon finding a page containing the members of Pluton, Marianne observed the biographies of the remaining members.

"I'll remove the others."


	8. Audience at the Top

Chapter 8: Audience at the Top

As the shuttle hovered over the snowy mountainside, the American pilot, Howard Liggins, focused on the radar in front of him. A sprite of the shuttle flashed white, emanating circular blips through the screen. Sighing in exasperation, Liggins shook his head disapprovingly, shifting his eyes to the woman next to him.

C.C. leaned onto the edge of the chair, her forearm on his shoulder. Her right hand hovered over her left wrist, grasping a small dagger in in her palm. The tip of the blade was pushed up against the neck of the pilot, who turned his eyes to the windshield.

"Who did you call?" C.C. asked darkly, lightly pressing the blade on his soft, peach skin.

"Anyone nearby." Liggins answered stoically, not even bothering to lie his way out.

"How many times did you call?" C.C. scowled deeply, her eyes glued to his neck.

"Enough to know who's on board." Liggins answered confidently, figuring that she wouldn't risk murder-suicide.

A squadron of VTOL air transports came into view, emerging from behind the ice blocks. The seven transports carried as many black-clad Glasgows, armed with retractable turrets on their wrists.

"Pluton." C.C. scowled irritably, as her pursuers surrounded the shuttle.

"Exactly, genius." Liggins flashed a smug smile, tentatively shifting his eyes to her.

C.C. ignored his jab at her, running her eyes along the environment behind the Glasgows. He sighed in relief as she removed the blade from his neck.

"How did they get here?" She wondered aloud, sneered in annoyance, narrowing her eyes.

"You have a mind; use it." He retorted bluntly, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen.

C.C. furrowed her brow, quietly running through her memory for hints. Jolting her brow up, she raised her head, having found the answer.

_Clovis._ She swore, recalling Mariannes mentioning of the Prince in her talk with Wizard.

_He probably sent 'em after I left Caerleon._ The pilot saw them searching for the shuttle, and he signaled for help.

Once C.C. finished her analysis, she re-directed her attention to the screen, the harsh engines of the VTOLs getting louder. Pluton surrounded the shuttle, their turrets fixed on the wings. C.C. scoffed in annoyance, rubbing the base of the dagger with her thumb. She pushed her arm to the side as the blade retracted into its hilt.

Liggins reached for the touchscreen, typing out a message and sending it to Pluton. The Glasgows lowered their wrists and retracted their turrets. Liggins kept the shuttle in between the squadron, adjusting its speed to accommodate that of the VTOLs.

As Pluton escorted the shuttle out of the snowy mountainside, Liggins received a transmission from one of the Glasgows. It detailed coordinates to Pendragon, the capital of Britannia.

"Heh, they want me to see the Emperor?" C.C. chuckled, raising her brow curiously.

"I pray for your survival." Liggins quipped sarcastically, not noticing the smile etched on her lips.

Upon approaching Pendragon, the shuttle landed safely in front of the palace, with the VTOLs following suit. The Glasgows' cockpits opened, allowing the seven Pluton pilots to leap onto the ground. They motioned towards the shuttle door, with six lining up on the sides. The seventh and final member stood before the door, waiting for C.C. to leave.

C.C. crossed her arms below her chest, tilting her head to the right as she walked through the ramp. The man in front of her wore a dark gray trench-coat, accompanied by a black mask that covered the top half of his face, with four eye slits on either side.

C.C. looked to her left, where the female members wore dark blue thigh-high boots, blue shorts and back-less shirts. They sported white masks with a cross-like visor in the middle; the lines revealed their eyes. On her right, the male members wore tight black pants and unbuttoned dark gray bolero jackets, revealing their lithe musculature. Their masks were white, modeled in the same design as their captain.

"Follow us." The captain commanded, turning around and walking to the direction of the palace.

The other six members stood in pairs at C.C.'s sides and rear, surrounding her. Chuckling lightly, C.C. shrugged frivolously, following Pluton into Pendragon itself. They entered one of the white pillars on the left, opening the door and entering the elevator. Stopping at the second floor, they traversed through the bridge, ignoring the confused looks from the Britannian nobles passing by.

Within twenty minutes, they entered the Royal Court, as Charles stood before his throne. The seven Pluton members bowed respectfully, before Charles waved his hand out to dismiss them. Once Pluton left, Charles locked eyes with C.C.

"It didn't take too long for me to realize you're a Geass contractor." Charles mused flatly, his expression blank.

C.C. raised her brow curiously. "What clued you in?" She asked, tilting her head quizzically to the left.

"Code R dug through records of a mind-reading Chinese boy you met." C.C widened her eyes in alarm, furrowing her brow angrily at his knowledge of Mao.

"We found cameras that detected your awakening of Geass into him." Charles explained, his eyes observing her body language.

"You left him in a village." Charles continued, upturning his right hand and sticking his index finger at her.

"The people turned on one another." Charles wrapped his fingers over his palm and pushed his wrist backward.

"Abandonment, deception, arguments, murder." A finger was raised at every spoken word, punctuating his point.

"They tore themselves apart, because of you." Charles jolted his finger at her accusingly.

C.C. darted her eyes around the floor, attempting to process the information. "That shouldn't have happened," was all she could muster to say.

"I'm assuming you've already seen the Sword of Akasha?" Charles asked, waving his upturned left hand towards her.

"I stumbled on a Thought Elevator already, yes." She raised her brow, surprised that the Britannian Emperor knew of Akasha.

"I need your help to activate it." Charles began walking towards C.C., his shadow engulfing her own as he towered over her.

"You think I'll listen?" C.C. scoffed, unperturbed at the authority of an emperor.

"You think you have a choice?" Charles retorted, crossing his arms assertively.

C.C. narrowed her eyes at Charles, surveying the attire of the emperor. She leaned her head down, her eyes glued to him. Smirking, Charles held his hand out and turned the palm upward; signaling for her to walk over to him.

C.C. glared at his palm, looked up at his eyes and returned her gaze to the palm. She ensnared her left hand over his wrist, pulling his arm towards her. She lunged the dagger deep into Charles' palm, blood spilling onto the floor and staining the steel blade. She pulled the blade from his fractured flesh. With a growl, Charles pulled his arm back and enveloped his other hand over the wrist. Once he looked up, C.C. was nowhere to be found.

Charles flung his hand before his face, the sigil rapidly flickering on and off. "What did you do to my code!?"


	9. Steel Met Flesh

Chapter 9: Steel Met Flesh

The seven Pluton members stood in front of the door leading into the Royal Court. The American captain, Alahn Mercer, clasped his hands horizontally, his fingers rubbing the metacarpals tightly. His chestnut brown eyes surveyed the hallway, observing the numerous palace guards standing at attention. The palace guards wore gray uniforms with red sashes, black helmets and short red capes. Badges with the Britannian coat-of-arms were stitched to their shirts, just over the area of their hearts.

Each of the badges bore the name of the palace guard just below the coat-of-arms. Daniel Landros and Ronald Thursley were the two guards standing at opposite sides of the door. Douglas Riddell stood next to the wall adjacent to the door, positioned between Landros and Thursley. Oliver Morrison stood near Landros, but on the opposite wall. Christian Laettner, Winston Lambert, Rodney Coughlin and Owen Nuttridge were the four guards at the right of the hallway, which separated into two sets of rooms.

Mercer lowered his head, the jaw lightly pressing on the collarbone. "Those staffs aren't meant for combat." He deduced, jolting his head towards one of the guards.

"Arming it for a shot won't work; it's too big." He pointed to the bloated, cylindrical frame that made up its rifle.

"Stabbing won't work, either. The bayonet is too elaborate." His middle finger lifted upwards, calling attention to the quadruple-pronged red knives encircling the tip of the staff.

"It's not a weapon. It's a collectors' item." Mercer crossed his arms confidently, satisfied with his analysis.

"I'd wager he's keeping you around only for appearances." Mercer shrugged, upturning his right hand towards one of the palace guards. Thursley gripped his rifle tightly, narrowing his eyes at Mercer, but relented once Riddell shook his head in disapproval.

"Don't expect to put up much of a fight yourself." He waved his hand dismissively, walking through the door at the end of the hallway.

"We're leaving her with the Emperor?" A male member asked of his captain, concern prominent in his voice.

"We were to find C.C. and bring her to the Emperor. Nothing left for us here." Upon uttering the final word, Mercer stopped suddenly. At the far end of the hallway was a dark blond prince.

"Except for that." Mercer raised his hand out at the prince, who returned the gesture in kind.

"Thanks for assistance, Captain." The prince bowed respectfully, offering a rose to Mercer.

"14-year olds aren't normally that courteous, Clovis." In spite of the compliment, Mercer placed his palm on the rose and inched his arm forward, declining the gift.

"I'm not like normal teenagers. I'm a prince!" Clovis declared proudly, a confident smile etched on his features. To emphasize this, Clovis brought the hand with the rose to his torso, cocked his head to the left and raised his chin up.

"You're not the only teenaged prince, you know." Despite the chuckle, Mercer frowned in annoyance; happy that the mask covered his face.

"Let me enjoy it anyway." Clovis snorted with displeasure, crossing his arms and huffing irritably.

"Are you trying to swoon me into helping you beat Lelouch at chess?" Mercer blurted out impatient, irritation having taken over.

Clovis jolted his eyes in surprise. "Uhhh... maybe?" was all the Prince could muster to say.

"Get out." Mercer demanded, a growl accompanying his words as he pointed to the wall.

Clovis raised both hands in the air, shrugging his shoulders simultaneously. Before Mercer could retort, Clovis swiftly exited the hallway without another word.

"He needs to learn how to do things himself." Mercer uttered a sharp groan, rubbing his forehead gingerly.

"That's something I've wanted to say to Zevon for a while." Mercer muttered under his breath, just audible enough for his subordinates to nod approvingly.

**What's stopping you? **Saiduhr's voice interjected, prompting Mercer to jolt his head up and run his eyes around the room. If any of the Pluton members noticed, nobody said a word. Taking a deep breath, Mercer walked out of the room with Pluton.

_She's my boss_, Mercer explained. _I won't raise a hand at my boss._

Just as they approached their Knightmare Frames, Mercer felt his left eye sting. He hunched forward, his hand rising towards his face as his fingers twitched erratically. Blinking rapidly, Mercer removed his mask and threw it to the ground.

"Mirror!" He commanded of his subordinates, who surrounded him. One took out a mirror from her pocket, handing it over to Mercer. He snatched it away and held it in front of his face.

"I've lost my Geass!" Mercer quickly looked up and around the arena, his eyes surveying the scenery almost in desperation. Howard Liggins was approaching Pluton, who regarded Mercer with confusion.

"He better not have heard that." Mercer muttered under his breath, glaring at the shuttle pilot with suspicion.

Mercer reached for his pocket and took out a pistol. He aimed it to Liggins' head and pulled the trigger, the bullet sheering through Liggins' flesh. Liggins fell forward, his head bumping the hard pavement.

Pushing himself from the ground, Mercer hunched his torso as he walked forward, grabbing his mask and strapping it to his face.

* * *

Once C.C. threw the doors open, she lunged a fist onto Riddell's gut, the guard standing before her. Riddell fell to the ground, clutching his stomach in pain. Ronald Thursley, a second guard, grabbed his rifle and swung it at C.C., who ducked her head with ease.

The bayonet sliced through the neck and jawline of Landros, who stood next to Thursley opposite the door. Pressing his hand on the wound, Landros stuck his back to the wall and slowly descended to the floor. The blood inched through his fingers and rained onto the ground, staining the carpet.

Thursley spared nary a look at his comrade. He repositioned his hands on the rifle and swung it to the left, smacking Morrison square in the face. The hit sent Morrison backward, snapping his neck as he fell head-first to the ground.

Thursley pulled the rifle back, placing it just below his right armpit, and cocked its chamber. C.C. swung her forearm onto the rifle, pushing it to the side just as the trigger was pulled. The bullet struck Riddell in the forehead, propelling his head to the wall.

C.C. grabbed Thursley's face and slammed his head onto the wall. Thursley slid down the wall and bent over, clutching the back of his head and grimacing in pain.

As she turned to the right, she spotted the four guards at the end of the hallway. Lambert, Coughlin and Nuttridge lined up at the end of the hallway, readying their rifles at her. Laettner, who stood behind the four removed the bayonet from his rifle and charged straight at her, shoving Nuttridge out of the way. Laettner lowered his torso just as he lunged the bayonet at C.C.

Flinging herself back to avoid the jab, C.C. grabbed Laettners wrist and twisted it. When he looked to the hand in shock, C.C. elbowed Laettner in the face, sending him to the ground.

Raising his head tentatively, Thursley reached for the bayonet. He stood up slowly, just behind C.C. and swung it at her, who lowered her shoulder and avoided contact. She turned around, raising her head and locking eyes with Thursley. Holding the blade adjacent to his knee, Thursley lifted the bayonet vertically, the blade grazing her chin as she stepped back. Scowling deeply, Thursley threw the bayonet at C.C., who stepped aside. The blade latched onto Lamberts face, piercing through his nose and forehead.

C.C. placed her foot next to that of Thursley. As he lunged a fist at her, she side-stepped behind Thursley, with the fire-squad opening fire. The bullets ripped through his chest, blood staining his uniform and dripping to the floor. Cringing tightly, Thursley slumped over in pain, clutching his bleeding torso. C.C. cupped her fist and raised her arms to the side, jettisoning her elbow to the back of his head and propelling Thursley to the ground.

With the fire-squad reloading, she hunched forward, bent her knees and raised her elbows to the air. She bent her feet forward, balancing on her toes. Coughlin and Nuttridge raised their rifles at her, C.C. used the momentum of her toes to take off. When she got within three meters of the fire-squad, she pushed herself into the air, the skirt fluttering about as she held her leg out. Her foot made contact with Coughlin's face, flinging him to the floor and landing safely on the ground. Her legs bent below her chest, she placed her palms flat on the floor to balance herself. As soon as Nuttridge turned, C.C. leaned forward and stuck her leg back, striking Nuttridge in the shin. Jolting forward in pain, he dropped the bayonet and grunted loudly.

Pushing himself up, Coughlin grabbed his rifle, pulled it back and lunged it at C.C., who ducked her head. The bayonet entered Nuttridge's mouth, the knives inching through the back of his head. Right as Coughlin pulled it back, C.C. grabbed the rifle and pushed it down, shifting his head forward. C.C. slammed her shoulder onto his jaw, forcing Coughlin to release his rifle. She jolted the butt of the rifle forward, striking the top of Coughlin's head and snapping his neck.

Upon dropping the rifle, C.C. surveyed the room for a better weapon. Spotting a pistol in Thursley's pocket, she removed it from his uniform, checked the chamber and cocked it. Shifting her gaze at Thursley, she pointed the pistol to his head and pulled the trigger, the bullet searing his head. No reaction. Nodding her head in satisfaction, C.C. looked to the door at the end of the hallway.

C.C. spotted Pluton approaching their Knightmare Frames. Shifting her gaze to Liggins' shuttle, and back at Pluton, C.C. frowned.

_They're probably waiting for me if I go back inside_. She mused in her thoughts, biting her lower lip while she weighed her options. Exhaling deeply, she raised the gun, pointed it at a random Pluton member and pulled the trigger.

The bullet pierced Mercer's hip, forcing him to kneel to the ground as he clutched the wound. She was too far for him to see, but he could make out that unmistakable lime green hair.

The male members, Douglas Tabram, Andrew Dosslure and Lawrence Eddowes placed their hands on Mercer's back, kneeling down to check on the wound. Mischlitt Cethlenn, Nadine Dovrill and Tsolko Highclin spun around and drew their revolvers.

"Let me fight her!" Mercer demanded, lifting himself from the ground despite the pain. He was still clutching his hip, hunching over in a limp.

Grimacing, Mercer used his free hand to grab a hold of his pistol. C.C. lowered her head in anticipation, just as Mercer fired several bullets into the air.

C.C. pressed her right foot to the ground and edged herself to the side, avoiding a pair of bullets. She threw her right shoulder back, lining her torso to the side and dodging another pair of bullets. She spun around to the left as a third pair of bullets levitated through the air.

As Mercer pulled the trigger, all that could be heard was a click. Throwing the revolver aside, he held his hand out for another revolver, which Dovrill provided. Cocking the gun, he fired all six bullets at C.C.

Hunching forward, C.C. crossed her arms over her chest in anticipation. She tucked her head and knelt down as three bullets were absorbed into her forearms.

"You should've fired when I was still reloading!" Mercer exclaimed at her loudly, jolting his hand at her direction for emphasis.

Her lime green hair levitated without warning, a Geass sigil appearing on her forehead. The three bullets inched out of the holes and dropped to the floor. The pierced, torn flesh was restored to its normal, healthy state, pre-bullet wounds.

"If that was gonna happen anyway, you shouldn't have bothered dodging!" Mercer released the second revolver and reached for the one in Cethlenn's hands.

He shot a piece of her cheek off, only for her skin to regenerate again. "Now you're pissing me off!" Mercer yelled out, frustration taking over.

"I haven't already?" C.C. taunted calmly, the corners of her lips twisting wickedly.

After letting out a growl, Mercer raised his revolver at her, who responded in kind. The respective chambers unleashed a single bullet into the air. Just barely grazing one another, Mercer's bullet ran past C.C.'s head, who tilted it to the side just as it approached her.

C.C.'s bullet burrowed into Mercer's skull, throwing his head back and flinging his body to the ground.

C.C. fired more rounds at Pluton, striking Tabram in the chest and Eddowes in the throat. Dovrill swung her leg at C.C., who dodged and rammed a fist at Dovrill's collarbone. Eddowes stood up and readied his revolver. C.C. kicked it out of the way, her skirt spinning around before she lunged her fist square in Dosslure's jaw; reeling him to the side. Immediately thereafter, C.C. edged herself to the side, dodging a punch from Cethlenn.

C.C. lowered her head just as Highclin swung her leg around. Before she could react, Cethlenn threw her fist at C.C.'s cheek, forcing the latter back. Cethlenn lunged another fist towards C.C., who clasped Cethlenn's hand with her palm and twisted it forward. With a wail, Cethlenn could only look at her broken hand, cringing in pain. Highclin leaped into the air and raised her foot up, making contact with C.C.'s jaw and sending her head back. Running her thumb over her lips, C.C. lunged her elbow into Highclin's neck, prompting the Pluton member to cough violently.

C.C. jumped into a Knightmare Frame and activated it, levitating into the air. Dosslure grabbed his revolver, ran to the edge of the building and fired an entire clip at C.C.'s mecha. His chest heaving up and down, Dosslure snarled as he threw his revolver to the ground, clenching his fists in anger.

Saiduhr's unsympathetic voice beamed into Mercer's flat-lined mind. **So much for obedience.**


	10. Under New Management

Chapter 10: Under New Management

A tall man with turquoise hair and yellow eyes stood at the end of a hallway. He wore the uniform of the royal guards, but lacked the helmet and bayonet. Instead, he carried a sword at his side, whose hilt resembled a snake eye. He scowled deeply, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes at the scene.

Blood littered the scene, with corpses sprawled out over the floor. Medics carried bodies out on stretchers. Janitors wiped the floor and the walls with mops and towels. Butlers gathered the weapons out of the hallways and handed them over to other palace guards. The man, Jeremiah Gottwald, looked to the cameras at the edges of the walls.

"They weren't even able to scratch her." Jeremiah mused distastefully, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Thursley was the wrong man to lead this group." Francis Eardley stood behind Jeremiah, frowning at the sight.

"That was my fault." Jeremiah extended his hand before Eardley, cocking his head to the left.

"I never thought he'd disregard his training like that." Jeremiah rubbed his fingers on his temples, groaning with annoyance.

"None of us could've known." Eardley reassured his captain, shifting his gaze over to Jeremiah.

"He lacked true experience." Eardley upturned his palm towards Thursley's corpse, noticing that the medics had yet to remove him.

"Can't wallow about it now." Eardley shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

Exhaling sharply, Jeremiah leaned his head down, conceding Eardley's point. "Relay this to the other officers." Jeremiah turned around, meeting Eardley's gaze.

"Push your forces out." Jeremiah waved his hand out, emphasizing his point with body language.

"Leave the heavy lifting to the elites." Jeremiah wrung his fingers over his palm, but left his index finger and his thumb out.

Eardley bowed dutifully. Jolted his head up, Eardley reached in his pocket as he lifted his torso.

"We have a new commander for the guardsmen." Eardley held a screen out, which Jeremiah took in his hands.

A dark pink-haired young woman with indigo eyes dominated the screen. Various facts about her birth, height, age and weight were found on the top right of the screen. Right above her head was her name. It read as Cornelia li Britannia.

"A princess?" Jeremiah queried, his brow cocked upward.

"A badass princess." Marianne countered, her lips twisting into a smile.

"Ah, lady Marianne!" Jeremiah bowed deeply, surprised at her sudden appearance.

"At ease, Captain." Marianne jolted her fingers toward herself in a hook motion, signaling for Jeremiah to straighten himself.

"Were you the one who picked Princess Cornelia?" Eardley deduced, raising his brow at her.

"Yeah," she admitted. "The Royal Guard needs a younger roster by now." Marianne shrugged, holding her hands out.

"Hmmm... I'd say Cornelia's worthy." Jeremiah clapsed his chin with his thumb and index finger, his eyes shifting down.

"She defeated six Royal Guards within 63 seconds flat." Jeremiah looked to the touch screen, reading off the synopsis of the duel.

"There's more to her than just combat, you know." Marianne cautioned, crossing her arms over her torso.

"Of course, ma'am." Jeremiah bowed his head respectfully, handing the touchscreen to Eardley.

Smiling, Marianne began to take her leave, before stopping herself just before the door. "Oh, Jeremiah?" She called out his name, cocking her head to the side.

"Yes, ma'am?" He asked, unsure of what to expect.

"I overheard your counter-strategy on Pendragon's security." Marianne held her hand out, her wrist tilted back and her fingers leaning lazily forward.

"I have a feeling most of the captains won't like taking orders from one of their own." She shrugged, upturning her palm and positioning her wrist diagonally.

"So, I hereby proclaim you as Margrave." She shrouded her palm with her fingers, her wrist leaning forward.

"You are now in charge of Pendragon's defense in its entirety." Marianne declared calmly, waving her hand as she walked through the door.

"Yes, your majesty!" Jeremiah couldn't hold back a grin, bowing once more at the Knight of Two.

Medics burst through the door, running to the platform. They knelt down, laying Tabram, Eddowes and Mercer on stretchers. Two medics went over to check on Cethlenn's twisted wrist and Dovrill's collarbone. Highclin rubbed her throat gingerly, swallowing sharply once she stopped coughing.

Dosslure ran his index and middle fingers over his temples, the thumb placed at the edge of his forehead. His pocket started vibrating, a ringing noise muffled by the confines. He flipped the lid open and raised the phone to his ear.

"You saw?" Dosslure queried with a sigh, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed.

"I really have nothing to say." Zevon's voice bellowed through the phone speakers.

"Then why did you call?" Dosslure shook his head, upturning his palm and holding his hand out.

" 'Cause I'm your boss." Zevon stated flatly, nonetheless smirking at the other end of the line.

Dosslure groaned, giving up on forming a comeback. "What's in store for us after that?" He asked blankly, not even trying to delay the inevitable scolding.

"Walk into my office for details." Zevon commanded, hanging up the phone within seconds.

Dosslure shook his head in disapproval as he put the phone back in his pocket. He walked over to the girls and knelt down.

"Olivia's ready to pass judgment." Dosslure explained, groaning as the final word slipped through his lips.

"Well, I enjoyed life." Cethlenn mused half-sarcastically, her broken hand now covered in bandages.

"Enjoy it some more, while you can." Highclin leaned her head to the side, cracking the sore bones in her neck.

Dosslure, Cethlenn, Highclin and Dovrill traveled to the apartment rooms in one of the spires, stopping just as Olivia Zevon's room came into view.

"You shouldn't go." Marianne chimed in suddenly, prompting Pluton to turn around in surprise.

Marianne was leaning on the wall just opposite Olivia's room. Her elbow and her foot were pushed up on the wall, with her hand clenching the hilt of her sword.

"You can't tell me you're not annoyed with her yet." Marianne cocked her brow up, the corner of her lips morphing into a smirk.

Pluton leaned their heads forward and lowered their gaze to the ground, none of whom managing to muster a reply.

Marianne pushed herself from the wall, slowly approaching Pluton. She held her hand over Dosslure's shoulder and let out a smile.

"Take a break," she advised pleasantly. "There's no harm in calming down." She rubbed his shoulder lightly, her long fingers covering two-thirds of it.

"Go to the lounge and rest for a while. Someone's there to see you." Marianne tilted her head and leaned her shoulder to the left, observing the eyes of the women behind Dosslure.

Dosslure looked to the ground and exhaled, nodding his head in agreement. As he turned around and headed for the lounge, the other three women followed suit.

Once they entered the door, a masked man with a black hat sat on the couch, a glass of wine in his hand.

"Welcome," Wizard said, raising the wine in his hand as the liquid sloshed around.

"It's a pleasure to meet you at last." Wizard held his other hand out, his arm hovering over the rest of the couch.

The green-eyed, blond-haired Olivia Zevon paced along the floor of her room, her eyes glued to the door. Her outfit consisted of an opened dark blue jacket, a low-cut blue miniskirt and a sideways ponytail. The jacket revealed her midriff, upper crotch lines and most of her ample bosom. Shaking her head, she approached the door and opened it forcefully, widening her eyes in surprise once she saw Marianne before her.

"Why are you hear?" Olivia raised her brow curiously, regarding Marianne with suspicion.

"Hello to you, too, Zevon." Marianne's cold, spite-fueled utterance of Olivia's surname betrayed her small, pleasant smile.

"Where is Pluton?" Olivia stood on her tip-toes and raised her head over Marianne's shoulder, observing the scenery behind the Knight of Two.

"I sent them away." Marianne answered flatly, shrugging her shoulders.

Olivia darted her eyes at Marianne, furrowing her brow. "Last I checked, I'm in charge of Pluton." Olivia leaned her head towards Marianne, their breathing barely grazing the other.

"Pluton answers to the Imperial Family." Marianne retorted, her smile morphing into a smug smirk.

Olivia scowled deeply, her fingers twitching erratically and her eyes locked with Marianne. At 5'8, Olivia was almost literally overshadowed by Marianne, who stood at 6'1. As they stood there, Marianne rubbed the base of her hilt, while Olivia clenched her hands into fists; her dorsal planages straining themselves.

Marianne broke the silence. "You need some rest." Marianne mused in a singsong voice tone, tilting her head horizontally to her left. Her eyes never left Olivia.

"I feel fine." Olivia insisted, her voice louder than the last time she spoke.

"People always say that just before they collapse." Marianne leaned her head back, her eye lids seemingly half-closed as she stretched her neck.

"Take a leave of absence until further notice." Marianne said that like an order, bringing her hand over Olivia's shoulder.

"Tch." Olivia sneered at Marianne, throwing her shoulder forward and forcing Marianne's hand off.

Marianne bowed slowly, extending her foot backwards and flipping it around, with the rest of her body following suit. As she went through the door, the dark blond-haired Oegrus Zevon walked through it, furrowing his brow curiously at Marianne.

Olivia wrapped her hand around Oegrus' wrist and pulled his arm back, propelling his torso forwards and getting him to trip onto her bed. She slammed the door shut and locked it tight, throwing off her jacket and shoes. Reeling from the fall, Oegrus offered no resistance once Olivia removed his shorts and boxers. Straddling his waist, Olivia ripped his shirt open, revealing his tanned, chiseled six-pack. Pinning his arms over his head and gripping his wrists tightly, Olivia rammed her tongue into his mouth, grinding her hips along his crotch. Separating their mouths for air, Oegrus looked at his wife, whose family name he adopted.

"What happened?" He asked of her, furrowing his brow in concern and locking his eyes with her own.

Olivia slammed her crotch onto his own, eliciting a sharp inhale in his throat. He threw his head back, his eyes rolling.

"Stress relief."


	11. False Freedom

Chapter 11: False Freedom

After sending a text to C.C., Marianne turned her phone off and sent it within her pocket. Marianne clasped her hands together, wrung her arms over her head and stretched her humerus out; her thumbs touching the tip of her spine. Inhaling sharply, Marianne shifted her head to the side and cracked her neck, groaning lightly.

"I'm impressed." Cedric smirked coyly, as he leaned on the wall, with his hands crossed.

Marianne opened her right eye, gazing at Cedric. "On the stretching?" She asked playfully, her closed left eye making it appear like she winked.

"Well, that, too." Cedric shrugged, pushing himself from the wall. He approached Marianne slowly, standing at just an inch shorter than her.

"I heard what you said to Olivia." Cedric explained, jolting his chin at Zevon's room several meters away.

"Guess this means I'm a free man." Cedric flashed a grin, wrapping his arm around Marianne's neck. He hunched forward, his weight balancing itself on her shoulders.

"You already had free time." Marianne countered, raising her brow in suspicion.

"You said you hated how she wasn't letting you do anything," she recited, narrowing her eyes at him.

"What was she really making you do?" Marianne queried seriously, staring him down long enough that his smirk faded.

"She never let me finish," Cedric admitted, scowling in frustration.

"Finish what?" Marianne asked coyly, her gaze maneuvering to his waist.

"Uhhh... I'm not the one to give her kids. Let's leave it at that." He waved his hand out, positioned it horizontally and waved it to the side; physically refusing to elaborate any further.

"I mean, Zevon's gorgeous, but I needed some release." He shook his head in disapproval, closing his eyes for a moment. "I offered myself to the first two hot girls I saw when I was free for the weekend."

"And they ended up being Commander Niddique and Princess Henrietta," Marianne recalled, looking over to Henrietta's room at the far end of the hallway.

"Oh, that's right. Before I left the room, I overheard something." Marianne smirked mischievously, causing Cedric to raise his brow.

"Henrietta wanted you to bring another man." Marianne winked teasingly, bringing her own arm around his shoulder and rubbing the back of his neck.

Cedric jolted his head backwards, widening his eyes in surprise. "Uhhh... Some guys deserve exceptions." Cedric felt his cheek flush, shifting his gaze away from Marianne.

"I saw your purple irises," she blurted out suddenly.

"Uhh, yeah, 'cause I still have it?" Cedric drawled out dryly, shifting his eyes around the room.

"Zevon looked into my eye, and voila, the raven was on my shoulder." Cedric leaned toward her ear, whispering his admittance softly.

"She used Geass on the male members only." He recalled with a groan, furrowing his brow as he searched through his memories.

"It makes us naturally more obedient to her without her even having to say anything." Cedric rolled his eyes, frowning in annoyance.

Marianne elicited a light, airy hum, tilting her head curiously. "I think that's how she managed to keep you from giving her any kids." She simpered, her deduction prompting Cedric to nod slowly.

A loud slap could be heard from Zevon's room, prompting Marianne and Cedric to look back. A rhythmic symphony of Oegrus' heavy, layered breathing accompanied Olivia's soft, breathless moans.

"Wanna try that out?" Cedric whispered with a smirk in her ear; his deep, husky voice penetrating her ear drums.

"We only met a while ago." Marianne protested half-heartedly, smiling coyly as she tilted her head back; revealing her smooth neck to his lips.

"That didn't stop Alastrine or Henrietta." Cedric's warm breath ensnared Marianne's throat, causing her to let out a soft moan.

"One on condition." Marianne walked to her room and threw Cedric to her bed, locking the door behind her.

"Uhhh, uh-huh?" Cedric queried wordlessly, shifting his eyes around the room nervously.

Marianne leaped onto the mattress, crawling over his muscular frame. Her legs around his waist and her hands gripping his wrists, Marianne leaned her head down, her lips grazing his own.

"Let me take over."

Charles stood in the middle of the Akasha temple, growling angrily. He held his injured hand out, the sigil removed entirely. V.V. stood before his brother, his hand ensnaring Charles' wrist.

"Mercer and Zevon lost their Geass once you lost your code." V.V. explained blankly, his gaze glued to Charles' palm.

"Assume the same for everyone you've touched." V.V. squeezed Charles' wrist, eliciting a grunt from his brother.

"Also assume than another code will appear on someone else's hand." V.V. looked up to his brother and released his grip.

"And who'll that be?" Charles rubbed his wrist gingerly, his brow furrowed.

"Over here." A third voice called out, the volume echoing around the room. Charles and Vivicar shifted their gaze to the source.

A man as tall as Charles came into view, standing just at the edge of the stairs. "Costnett Mulcair?" V.V. tilted his head quizzically, surprised at Mulcair's sudden appearance.

"No need for the full name, Vivicar." Murdoch waved his gloved hand, dismissing the formality.

"No need for the _real_ name, Roger." V.V. ricocheted back at Mulcair, frowning at the utterance of his name.

Mulcair raised his hands in mock surrender, the red arm-warmers covering his wrists and forearms.

"You look like a girl anyway, so I'd agree that the nickname fits." Mulcair shrugged, his black triple-pronged shoulder plates heaving upwards.

V.V. narrowed his eyes at Mulcair, but before he could mutter a retort, Charles spoke up.

"What drove you out of your happy place?" Charles queried somewhat mockingly, raising his brow curiously.

"And don't say because of the code." Charles warned, interjecting just before Mulcair could answer.

"Yeah, I got one as soon as I entered the temple." Mulcair held his left hand out, the outlines of a sigil glowing through the cloth.

"I'll activate the Sword of Akasha when needed." Mulcair shifted his palm in their direction, as if to calm any suspicions over his intentions.

"You'll have to prove it." V.V. scoffed, crossing his arms as he pouted irritably.

"I can prove it here." Mulcair reached for one of the purple capes covering his torso. He took out a triangular icon and held it flat on his palm.

His thumb grazed the very tip of the pyramid causing it to open up. A holographic screen emanated from the pyramid, showcasing C.C.'s hijacked Knightmare Frame traversing the sky.

"We can track her with this." Mulcair suggested coolly, the hologram depicting C.C. exiting the Knightmare Frame and approaching the Mengjia Longshan Temple.

"She's in Taiwan." V.V. deduced immediately, raising his brow in amusement as he laid his palm on his cheek.

"Not good." Mulcair frowned, eliciting a confused expression from Charles.

"Taiwan found its own cache of Sakuradite." Mulcair explained quickly, his eyes darting around the holographic image.

Just before Charles could query further, V.V. cut him off. "A material needed to power Knightmare Frames." V.V. answered, rolling his eyes at his brothers' ignorance of world events.

"Cold war between China and Japan." Mulcair interjected, pressing his metacarpals on his forehead as he groaned loudly.

"They've spent that entire time trying to court Taiwan for Sakuradite." Mulcair scowled deeply, the hologram depicting C.C. lending the Knightmare Frame to one of Wizard's agents at Peace Mark.

"A neutral zone," Charles nodded slowly, comprehension sinking in. "Clever woman." He smirked in approval, impressed at her strategy.

"I can top that." Mulcair declared confidently, turning the hologram off and placing the pyramid back in his pocket.

He brought out a phone and dialed a number, placing it to his ear as it rang repeatedly. A click could be heard, signaling that the recipient answered the call. Mulcair immediately blurted out an order, his voice echoing the confines of the temple.

"Do not let her sleep."


	12. A Girl's Secret

Chapter 12: A Girl's Secret

A tall, tanned man stood in his office, adorned in a white cloak over his uniform. He sported blue eyes and wavy, dark blue hair. This was Bismarck Waldstein, the Knight of Five. He bore a scowl, ruffing up his otherwise delicate features. He held out his left hand next to his ear, a phone inches away from flesh. His gruff, deep baritone bellowed into the speaker, annoyance seething through his teeth.

"I can't deploy anyone, much less black ops, in a neutral zone." Bismarck furrowed his brow irritably, darting his head to a screen on his desk.

"We don't need black ops." The voice in the phone belonged to Costnett Mulcair, whose own baritone beamed into Bismarck's voice.

"We need covert ops." Murdoch clarified, his voice calm in spite of his own irritation.

"The difference?" Bismarck spoke out impatiently, unimpressed with Mulcair's suggestion.

"Covert ops keep us unknown to outsiders." Mulcair explained quickly, losing his own patience in spite of his deadpanned tone.

"And we do that, how?" Bismarck queried somewhat incredulously, moving his eyes to the outline of the phone.

"Lobbying." Mulcair answered after a short while, as if making up the idea on the spot.

"Corporations do that." Bismarck cocked his brow upward, intrigued at the idea.

"Exactly." Mulcair nodded his head on the other side of the line, smiling triumphantly as his words echoed the room.

"What help would I provide, then?" Bismarck furrowed his brow again, confusion replacing annoyance.

"Leave Taiwan," Mulcair commanded, his baritone heightening his sense of authority.

"I'm here as an ambassador," Bismarck reminded of Mulcair, the Knight of Five shaking his head disapprovingly.

"If I leave, that could be seen as a severing of diplomacy, for three different counties." Bismarck warned sharply, looking out his window almost instinctively.

"And if you stay, they'll assume you're spearheading the lobbying efforts." Mulcair countered, upturning his free hand while holding the phone with the other.

"I can help out." A man interjected, having just entered Bismarck's room. He wore a black trenchcoat and a wide-brimmed Akubra hat. In spite of the clothes, the Oni mask was unmistakable.

"I heard another voice." Mulcair darted his eyes around his room, taken aback by the presence of an eavesdropper.

"It's Wizard." Bismarck narrowed his eyes at the man in question, wondering how much Wizard heard of the conversation.

"You want to keep an eye on C.C., right?" Wizard queried with a smirk, cocking his head to the left.

"Was it that obvious?" Mulcair chimed in, having been put on speaker.

"This mask has very good hearing technology." Wizard explained calmly, tapping his index finger onto the edge of his mask.

"Why trust you?" Bismarck asked, narrowing his eyes at Wizard's snout.

"Pluton or not, you weren't ever worth any trouble." Bismarck approached Wizard slowly, studying his lack of body language.

"You think too little of me, kid." Wizard spoke condescendingly, holding out his hand and upturning his palm; lecturing the Knight of Five.

"Knowing is power," Wizard began. "Doesn't matter if it's true," he muttered under his breath, but clear enough for Bismarck to twitch his eyebrow alarmingly.

"You have confidence in your knowledge." Wizard clasped Bismarck's shoulder tightly, locking his eyes with Bismarck.

"Without knowledge, without certainty, you lack that confidence. It breeds indecisiveness. Anxiety. Fear." Wizard stood unfazed as Bismarck dropped his shoulder, sliding Wizard's hand to the side.

"You don't have to trust me," Wizard conceded mockingly, smirking at the results of his enigmatic persona.

"You can't know me, but you know what I might hold up my sleeve." Wizard held his right arm vertically and tilted his hand back. His left hand wrapped around his wrist, feigning the motion of a magician doing a trick.

"And what I hold in yours." Wizard extended his right middle finger towards Bismarck, eliciting a growl from the Knight of Five.

"Fine." Mulcair interjected, annoyed at Wizard's speech.

"We'll let you deal with it." Mulcair conceded, gritting his teeth irritably.

"I've already sent someone to her."

* * *

The long-limbed, navy blue Ganymede stood at attention. Its enormous, gray left hand carried Marianne in its palm. Her arm held to the side, Marianne bore her trademark smile, her gaze falling upon the two men in front of her.

The dark blond man was Ruben Ashford. At his left was the bespectacled Lenard Lubie, his own hair clad with black with white strains. Ruben furrowed his brow in confusion, tilting his head and cupping his chin quizzically.

"How are you doing that without piloting it?" Ruben asked, jolting his index finger to Marianne.

Marianne dropped her smile in annoyance. "Never mind that." She brought her arm down, setting it back to her side.

The Ganymede lowered its hand to the ground, hunching its torso forward to support its balance. Marianne jumped from the hand, bending her knees as she landed on the floor. As she lifted her torso, she straightened her legs and locked her knees, towering over the middle-aged men.

Ruben and Lenard bowed respectfully, clenching their left hands into fists and sticking them on their shoulders.

"What brings you here, mi'lady?" Lenard queried politely, straightening his torso.

Marianne slid her foot backwards and inched her waist to the side, hanging her hand out to the Knightmare Frame.

"I'm retiring the Ganymede." She declared, her smile back on her face.

Lenard and Ruben jolted their eyes in surprise, switching their eyes to one another in confusion.

"The Emperor was attacked earlier." She explained wistfully, upturning her palm. Ruben and Lenard nodded, having been made aware of the incident earlier on the news.

"Security has been bolstered since the attack." Marianne enclosed her fingers over her palm, keeping the index finger directed towards the sky.

"However prudent it might be to stay as a pilot," Marianne continued, "the Glasgows are more advanced than the Ganymede." She smiled widely, as she saw Ruben frown deeply.

"It isn't worth my time trying to play catch up to rookies." Marianne shrugged, tilting her head to the side and grazing her jawline with her shoulder.

"Plus, I preferred being the only mecha pilot." In spite of her flippancy, Marianne's eyes bore a sense of anxiety, as she laid her gaze upon the Ganymede.

"... you're hiding something." Ruben deduced immediately, narrowing his own eyes at the Knight of Two.

"Mmm, you got me." She raised her hands in mock surrender, simpering at the two men.

"If I hang up my uniform, the security will haul ass to protect me." Marianne tilted her wrist forward, her nails pointing at her chest; before cupping her fingers and jolting her thumb back.

"I hand-picked the best possible officers in charge of defense, to make sure of it." Marianne darted her thumb towards herself, emphasizing her point.

"Why give it to the Ashfords, though?" Lenard queried, held his hand horizontally, its fingers adjacent to Ruben's cheek.

"I made the Ganymede for her." Ruben answered proudly, tapping his palm on his chest as he switched his gaze to Lenard.

"And I'm here to show my gratitude for it." Marianne bowed respectfully, prompting Lenard and Ruben to bow deeper.

"I imagine the Glasgows haven't been kind to the Ashfords." Lenard inquired suddenly, his eyes analyzing the Ganymede.

"The competition screwed me over, but I can manage." Ruben scoffed derisively, waving his hand dismissively.

"How, exactly?" Marianne asked curiously, lifting her brow with interest.

"An academy. It's still a work in progress, but it's better to start now." Ruben shrugged, closing his eyes briefly as he rolled his shoulders.

"I was enrolling my daughter in advance." Lenard interjected, raising his hand to call attention to the clipboard clutched in his palm.

Marianne cupped her chin, humming thoughtfully. "Hmmm, I have a request." She held her index finger out, the hand slightly over her head.

"If something happens to me, watch over my kids." Marianne's dark, serious glare bore into Rubens eyes, who darted his gaze away nervously.

"They'll go by my maiden name." She added, curving her fingers towards herself.

"If someone asks, just say they're my niece and nephew."

* * *

C.C. was laying on a bed at an apartment room, bending her left knee as she stretched her arms out. She wore only a set of stripped, side-tie panties, colored black and dark green; her smooth, silky legs with nary a sweat drop. Her long green hair was messy and curled, strands barely covering her exposed cleavage.

An empty square box was on the desk next to her bed, with a half-empty cup of water square in the middle. A shirtless Cedric stood next to her bed, pulling his boxers up. He rolled his shoulders, groaning as he stretched his neck.

"Man, I'm sore." He complained half-heartedly, smiling contently as he remembered the reason for his soreness.

"You're welcome." C.C. snarked playfully, the corner of her lips edging into a coy smirk. She was met with a wink from Cedric, who elected to hop in the shower.

"Keep the door open." C.C. near-commanded, waving her hand authoritatively. Cedric let out a smirk, bowing politely and obediently.

A vibrating ring could be heard from her smartphone on the desk. Now clutching the smartphone in her hand, C.C. sat Indian style, resting her forearm on the mattress. Instead of hunching forward, however, she elected to straighten her torso, accentuating her curves.

On the other side of the world, Marianne held her smartphone in her left hand, her thumb grazing the buttons at the base. Marianne was in her Knight of Two uniform, watching as Ruben took Ganymede at her request.

"How's your new home?" Marianne's text said.

"Pizza." That was all C.C. wrote, her expression blank.

Marianne chuckled lightly, smiling a bit at C.C.'s bluntness. "Did you hoard it for yourself?" Marianne asked in response, unsure of what else to say.

"I had to share it with a guy." C.C. turned on her stomach, resting her cheek on the mattress.

"Oh?" Marianne emitted a cat smile at the end of her text.

"We started arguing over who gets how many, then the pizza went cold." C.C. explained flatly, her eyes shifting towards the opened door to the shower.

"I made sure he wouldn't sleep at night after that." C.C. smirked as she recalled the parting shots she gave to his back and neck.

"I thought you didn't go after strangers." Marianne teased, sending a cheeky, stick-out-tongue emoticon.

"I still don't," C.C. retorted calmly. "I met him as I got here," C.C. began, resting her free hand on her jawline.

"He's one of Wizard's guys. He gave me his apartment, and we got to know each other." C.C. yawned tiredly, herself feeling sore.

"He's a charmer, for sure," C.C. admits, "and he's easy to look at." C.C. snuck a peak at Cedric in the shower, the warm water dripping from his musculature.

"But I only went after him because of the pizza." C.C. insisted, loosening her grip on her smartphone. She could've sworn she heard Cedric yell out "Sure you did!" from the shower.

"Protecting your pride, mmm?" Marianne's coyness dripped from the text, though it didn't faze C.C. in the slightest.

"Cheese-kun is my pride, but close enough." C.C. shrugged, laying on her stomach as she held the smartphone over the edge of the bed.

"So, what did you call me up for?" C.C. shifted her gaze to Marianne's avatar in her smartphone, anticipating a more serious topic.

"I was given a medallion by one of Wizard's men." Marianne explained flatly, her test lacking any emoticons.

"I think it gave me a Geass. I want to show you." As soon as she sent that text, she requested a live feed to C.C.

C.C. accepted the request, turning herself on her back and lifting her torso; her forearm and legs keeping balance. Once connection was established, Marianne moved her phone to her face, covering it from potential eavesdroppers.

Once she locked eyes with C.C., Marianne covered her left eye briefly, grimacing at the stinging feeling. She opened her lids, revealing an illuminating eagle sigil on her pupil. C.C. narrowed her eyes at the screen, studying Marianne astutely.

Marianne reached for medallion in her pocket and activated it, the hologram revealing the power of her Geass to her exclusively. Marianne furrowed her brow initially, before her eyes widened; realization dawning.

"The medallion itself doesn't grant Geass to me." Marianne deduced, slipping the medallion back into the pocket. "It triggers the materialization of Geass if I meet a contractor."

"Even if it's something as minimal as eye contact." C.C. nodded, finishing Marianne's point for her.

Marianne let out a smile. "Thanks," she exclaimed, bowing her head.

"It won't go to waste." Marianne cut the connection after that sentence.

"Hey, I found something." Cedric declared suddenly, beckoning for C.C. to come.

C.C. stood up from her bed, stretching her long, silky legs. With a hearty groan, she walked into the bathroom slowly, closing her eyes as she strained the muscles on her limbs. At that moment, Cedric grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, injecting a needle in her neck. She grabbed his wrist and squeezed it, causing his bones to break. He bit his lower lip to prevent a scream. Her eyes felt heavy, the serum affecting her quickly. Her grip loosened, the strength leaving her body.

He kept her in his grasp, battling the pain in his wrist. He threw her onto the bed, clutching his arm as he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Four Pluton members came into the room, carrying C.C. in their hands. One went to check on Cedric.

"We'll send her to Loughner."


	13. Emblem of Blood

Chapter 13: Emblem of Blood

Cornelia li Britannia stood at the hall dutifully, clasping her hands behind her back. She bore a blank stare, her eyes analyzing the scenery. Palace guards were stationed outside, royal guards were at the inside, and Britannian noblemen were conversing all around. Cornelia felt a hand tug at her pants, prompting her to look down.

"There's momma!" Nunnally asked, her violet eyes fixed on the window.

Marianne entered the room, with her son Lelouch at her side. The other nobles bowed politely to her, before resuming their conversations.

A rose appeared in front of Lelouch's nose, jolting his head back in surprise. His eyes traveled the length of the slim green root, landing his gaze on the face of the flower holder.

"No, I will not play chess again, Clovis." Lelouch deadpanned, rolling his eyes at Clovis' confident smile.

"I've learned from our last encounter!" Clovis declared assuredly, planting his arm across his chest.

"And you keep losing." Lelouch snarked, unimpressed at Clovis' bravado.

"Hard to argue with that," a pink haired gal chimed in, taking a snapshot of the princes.

"Good idea, Anya." Lelouch smirked devilishly. "Show that off to everyone when he loses, so he knows not to do it again."

"I will not lose!" Clovis exclaimed exasperatedly, throwing the rose in front of Lelouch's face again.

Marianne smiled softly, amused at the antics of the princes. She looked around the room, noticing that Jeremiah was was overseeing the Britannian nobles at the corner.

"Security is much tighter now." Cornelia assured Marianne without prompt, bowing dutifully.

"I expect as much." Marianne returned the bow, closing her eyes as she knelt her torso.

Cornelia felt her face heat up, and shifted her gaze away, but kept her expression blank.

"The Emperor wishes to speak with you." Cornelia kept her head down, shifted her torso back and held her hand towards the stairs.

Furrowing her brow suspiciously, Marianne nevertheless nodded at Cornelia. As she began to walk onto the stairs, bullets rained through the giant window above the door, connecting with the flesh on her back. Marianne fell forward onto the ground, landing over her daughter Nunnally.

The princess twitched in fear and her mouth gaping, her small hands feeling the warm blood of her mother. The color of Nunnally's eyes began to fade. Clinging to life, Marianne looked to her left, locking her eyes with the nearest person to her - Anya Alstreim. At that moment, Marianne's eyes illuminated, before fully evaporating from her eyes.

Cornelia grit her teeth angrily, turning to the broken window. Cornelia brandished her sword and bashed the door open, running out in the open field with the soldiers accompanying her.

Jeremiah fell to his knees, his stomach churning violently. He forced his hands over his mouth, clenching his eyes shut as he forced himself not to throw up. Clovis and Lelouch stood in disbelief, their mouths gaping. Lelouch looked to his half brother and took Clovis' phone, dialing Charles' number. He held the phone to his ear, alternating his gaze from his mother to the direction of the phone, the weight of the moment pushing hard on his shoulders.

A click could be heard, signaling that Charles answered the call. "What is it?" Charles asked, his loud voice echoing in Lelouch's ear.

"M-my... my mother..." Lelouch's voice cracked, unable to form a cohesive sentence.

"M-my...!" Lelouch fell to the ground, his eyes dripping with water down his cheeks and onto the floor.

"Yes?" Charles raised his brow, unimpressed with the display from his son.

"My mother is dead!" Lelouch screamed out, his voice echoing through the walls of the ballroom.

Charles scoffed irritably. "Old news. What of it?"


End file.
